University  of  California  •  Berkeley 
From  the  Bequest 

of 
DOROTHY  K.  THOMAS 


BAR-20 


Hopalong  takes  command 


(See  page  24) 


BAR  -  20 


Being  a  record  of  certain  happenings  that  occurred  in  the 

otherwise  peaceful  lives  of  one  Hopalong  Cassidy 

and   his    companions    on    the    range 


by 


Clarence  Edward  Mulford 


Illustrated  by  N.  C.  Wyeth  and  F.  E.  Schoonover 


NEW  YORK 

THE  OUTING  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 
MCMVII 


Copyright,  1906,  1907,  by 
THE  OUTING  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 


Entered  at  Stationers'  Hall,  London,  England 


All  rights  reserved 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I  BUCKSKIN i 

II  THE  RASHNESS  OF  SHORTY      .  .15 

III  THE  ARGUMENT      .        .        .  .22 

IV  THE  VAGRANT  Sioux      .        .  .40 
V  THE  LAW  OF  THE  RANGE        .  .     58 

VI  TRIALS  OF  THE  CONVALESCENT  .     84 

VII  THE  OPEN  DOOR    .        .        .  .93 

VIII  HOPALONG  KEEPS  His  WORD  .  .  107 

IX  THE  ADVENT  OF  MCALLISTER  .  132 

X  PEACE  HATH  ITS  VICTORIES    .  .157 

XI  HOLDING  THE  CLAIM       .        .  .173 

XII  THE  HOSPITALITY  OF  TRAVENNES  .  209 

XIII  TRAVENNES'  DISCOMFITURE    .  .  220 

XIV  THE  TALE  OF  A  CIGARETTE     .  .  229 
XV  THE  PENALTY         .         .         .  .245 

XVI  RUSTLERS  ON  THE  RANGE        .  .257 

XVII  MR.    TRENDLEY    ASSUMES    ADDED 

IMPORTANCE      .        .        .  .271 

XVIII  THE  SEARCH  BEGINS      .        .  .278 

XIX  HOPALONG'S  DECISION    .        .  .  287 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

PAGE 

XX 

A  PROBLEM  SOLVED 

•     297 

XXI 

THE  CALL      .... 

.     310 

XXII 

THE  SHOWDOWN     . 

.     320 

XXIII 

MR.  CASSIDY  MEETS  A  WOMAN 

•     332 

XXIV 

THE  STRATEGY  OF  MR.  PETERS 

•  344 

XXV 

MR.  EWALT  DRAWS  CARDS 

.  356 

VI 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Hopalong  Takes  Command       .         .     Frontispiece 


FACING 
PAGE 


"  Shorty  Had  the  Best  Position  for  Defense  "  .       8 
"  Skinny  Dragged  Him  Over  to  a  Crack  and 

Settled  Down  for  Another  Try  "     .         .78 
"  Sitting  Up  Cross-legged,  With  Each  Hand 

Holding  a  Gun  " 106 

"  Hopalong's  Colts  Peeped  Over  the  Ears  of 

His  Horse" 118 

"  Calmly  Blew   Several   Heavy  Smoke  Rings 

Around  the  Frowning  Barrel  "        .         .182 
"  Saw  a  Crimson   Rider  Sweep  Down  Upon 

Him  .  .  .   Heralded  by  a  Blazing  Star  "  .  256 


BAR  — 20 

CHAPTER    I 

BUCKSKIN 

THE  town  lay  sprawled  over  half  a 
square  mile  of  alkali  plain,  its  main 
street  depressing  in  its  width,  for  those  who 
were  responsible  for  its  inception  had  worked 
with  a  generosity  born  of  the  knowledge  that 
they  had  at  their  immediate  and  unchallenged 
disposal  the  broad  lands  of  Texas  and  New 
Mexico  on  which  to  assemble  a  grand  total 
of  twenty  buildings,  four  of  which  were  of 
wood.  As  this  material  was  scarce,  and  had 
to  be  brought  from  where  the  waters  of  the 
Gulf  lapped  against  the  flat  coast,  the  last- 
mentioned  buildings  were  a  matter  of  local 
pride,  as  indicating  the  progressiveness  of 
their  owners.  These  creations  of  hammer 
and  saw  were  of  one  story,  crude  and 
unpainted;  their  cheap  weather  sheathing, 
I 


BAR  —  20 


warped  and  shrunken  by  the  pitiless  sun, 
curled  back  on  itself  and  allowed  unrestricted 
entrance  to  alkali  dust  and  air.  The  other 
shacks  were  of  adobe,  and  reposed  in  that 
magnificent  squalor  dear  to  their  owners,  In- 
dians and  "  Greasers." 

It  was  an  incident  of  the  Cattle  Trail,  that 
most  unique  and  stupendous  of  all  modern 
migrations,  and  its  founders  must  have  been 
inspired  with  a  malicious  desire  to  perpetrate 
a  crime  against  geography,  or  else  they  rev- 
eled in  a  perverse  cussedness,  for  within  a 
mile  on  every  side  lay  broad  prairies,  and  two 
miles  to  the  east  flowed  the  indolent  waters 
of  the  Rio  Pecos  itself.  The  distance  sepa- 
rating the  town  from  the  river  was  excusable, 
for  at  certain  seasons  of  the  year  the  placid 
stream  swelled  mightily  and  swept  down  in  a 
broad  expanse  of  turbulent,  yellow  flood. 

Buckskin  was  a  town  of  one  hundred  inhab- 
itants, located  in  the  valley  of  the  Rio  Pecos 
fifty  miles  south  of  the  Texas-New  Mexico 
line.  The  census  claimed  two  hundred,  but 
it  was  a  well-known  fact  that  it  was  exagger- 
ated. One  instance  of  this  is  shown  at  the 
2 


BUCKSKIN 


name  of  Tom  Flynn.  Those  who  once  knew 
Tom  Flynn,  alias  Johnny  Redmond,  alias 
Bill  Sweeney,  alias  Chuck  Mullen,  by  all  four 
names,  could  find  them  in  the  census  list. 
Furthermore,  he  had  been  shot  and  killed  in 
the  March  of  the  year  preceding  the  census, 
and  now  occupied  a  grave  in  the  young  but 
flourishing  cemetery.  Perry's  Bend,  twenty 
miles  up  the  river,  was  cognizant  of  this  and 
other  facts,  and,  laughing  in  open  derision  at 
the  padded  list,  claimed  to  be  the  better  town 
in  all  ways,  including  marksmanship. 

One  year  before  this  tale  opens,  Buck 
Peters,  an  example  for  the  more  recent  Billy 
the  Kid,  had  paid  Perry's  Bend  a  short  but 
busy  visit.  He  had  ridden  in  at  the  north  end 
of  Main  street  and  out  at  the  south.  As  he 
came  in  he  was  fired  at  by  a  group  of  ugly 
cowboys  from  a  ranch  known  as  the  C  80. 
He  was  hit  twice,  but  he  unlimbered  his 
artillery,  and  before  his  horse  had  carried 
him,  half  dead,  out  on  the  prairie,  he  had 
killed  one  of  the  group.  Several  citizens  had 
joined  the  cowboys  and  added  their  bullets 
against  Buck.  The  deceased  had  been  the 
3 


BAR  —  20 


best  bartender  in  the  country,  and  the  rage  of 
the  suffering  citizens  can  well  be  imagined. 
They  swore  vengeance  on  Buck,  his  ranch, 
and  his  stamping  ground. 

The  difference  between  Buck  and  Billy  the 
Kid  is  that  the  former  never  shot  a  man  who 
was  not  trying  to  shoot  him,  or  who  had  not 
been  warned  by  some  action  against  Buck 
that  would  call  for  it.  He  minded  his  own 
business,  never  picked  a  quarrel,  and  was 
quiet  and  pacific  up  to  a  certain  point.  After 
that  had  been  passed  he  became  like  a  raging 
cyclone  in  a  tenement  house,  and  storm-cellars 
were  much  in  demand. 

"  Fanning  "  is  the  name  of  a  certain  style 
of  gun  play  and  was  universal  among  the  bad 
men  of  the  West.  While  Buck  was  not  a 
bad  man,  he  had  to  rub  elbows  with  them  fre- 
quently, and  he  believed  that  the  sauce  for 
the  goose  was  the  sauce  for  the  gander.  So 
he  had  removed  the  trigger  of  his  revolver 
and  worked  the  hammer  with  the  thumb  of 
the  "  gun  hand  "  or  the  thumb  of  the  unin- 
cumbered  hand.  The  speed  thus  acquired 
was  greater  than  that  of  the  more  modern 
4 


BUCKSKIN 


double-action  weapon.  Six  shots  in  three  sec- 
onds was  his  average  speed  when  that  number 
was  required,  and  when  it  is  thoroughly 
understood  that  at  least  five  of  them  found 
their  intended  billets  it  is  not  difficult  to  realize 
that  fanning  was  an  operation  of  danger 
when  Buck  was  doing  it. 

He  was  a  good  rider,  as  all  cowboys  are, 
and  was  not  afraid  of  anything  that  lived. 
At  one  time  he  and  his  chums,  Red  Connors 
and  Hopalong  Cassidy,  had  successfully 
routed  a  band  of  fifteen  Apaches  who  wanted 
their  scalps.  Of  these,  twelve  never  hunted 
scalps  again,  nor  anything  else  on  this  earth, 
and  the  other  three  returned  to  their  tribe 
with  the  report  that  three  evil  spirits  had 
chased  them  with  "  wheel  guns  "  (cannons) . 

So  now,  since  his  visit  to  Perry's  Bend,  the 
rivalry  of  the  two  towns  had  turned  to  hatred 
and  an  alert  and  eager  readiness  to  increase 
the  inhabitants  of  each  other's  graveyard.  A 
state  of  war  existed,  which  for  a  time  resulted 
in  nothing  worse  than  acrimonious  sugges- 
tions. But  the  time  came  when  the  score  was 
settled  to  the  satisfaction  of  one  side,  at  least. 
5 


BAR  —  20 


Four  ranches  were  also  concerned  in  the 
trouble.  Buckskin  was  surrounded  by  two, 
the  Bar  20  and  the  Three  Triangle.  Perry's 
Bend  was  the  common  point  for  the  C  80 
and  the  Double  Arrow.  Each  of  the  two 
ranch  contingents  accepted  the  feud  as  a  mat- 
ter of  course,  and  as  a  matter  of  course  took 
sides  with  their  respective  towns.  As  no 
better  class  of  fighters  ever  lived,  the  trouble 
assumed  Homeric  proportions  and  insured  a 
danger  zone  well  worth  watching. 

Bar-2o's  northern  line  was  C  8o's  southern 
one,  and  Skinny  Thompson  took  his  turn  at 
outriding  one  morning  after  the  season's 
round-up.  He  was  to  follow  the  boundary 
and  turn  back  stray  cattle.  When  he  had 
covered  the  greater  part  of  his  journey  he 
saw  Shorty  Jones  riding  toward  him  on  a 
course  parallel  to  his  own  and  about  long 
revolver  range  away.  Shorty  and  he  had 
"  crossed  trails  "  the  year  before  and  the  best 
of  feelings  did  not  exist  between  them. 

Shorty  stopped  and  stared  at  Skinny,  who 
did  likewise  at  Shorty.  Shorty  turned  his 
6 


BUCKSKIN 


mount  around  and  applied  the  spurs,  thereby 
causing  his  indignant  horse  to  raise  both  heels 
at  Skinny.  The  latter  took  it  all  in  gravely 
and,  as  Shorty  faced  him  again,  placed  his 
left  thumb  to  his  nose,  wiggling  his  fingers 
suggestively.  Shorty  took  no  apparent  notice 
of  this  but  began  to  shout : 

1  Yu  wants  to  keep  yore  busted-down  cows 
on  yore  own  side.  They  was  all  over  us  day 
afore  yisterday.  I'm  goin'  to  salt  any  more 
what  comes  over,  and  don't  yu  fergit  it, 
neither." 

Thompson  wigwagged  with  his  fingers 
again  and  shouted  in  reply:  "  Yu  c'n  salt  all 
yu  wants  to,  but  if  I  ketch  yu  adoin'  it  yu 
won't  have  to  work  no  more.  An'  I  kin  say 
right  here  thet  they's  more  C  80  cows  over 
here  than  they's  Bar-2o's  over  there." 

Shorty  reached  for  his  revolver  and  yelled, 
"Yore  a  liar!" 

Among  the  cowboys  in  particular  and  the 

Westerners  in  general  at  that  time,  the  three 

suicidal  terms,  unless  one  was  an  expert  in 

drawing  quick  and  shooting  straight  with  one 

7 


BAR  — 20 


movement,  were  the  words  "  liar,"  "  coward,'* 
and  "  thief."  Any  man  who  was  called  one 
of  these  in  earnest,  and  he  was  the  judge,  was 
expected  to  shoot  if  he  could  and  save  his 
life,  for  the  words  were  seldom  used  without 
a  gun  coming  with  them.  The  movement  of 
Shorty's  hand  toward  his  belt  before  the  ap- 
pellation reached  him  was  enough  for  Skinny, 
who  let  go  at  long  range — and  missed. 

The  two  reports  were  as  one.  Both  urged 
their  horses  nearer  and  fired  again.  This  time 
Skinny's  sombrero  gave  a  sharp  jerk  and  a 
hole  appeared  in  the  crown.  The  third  shot 
of  Skinny's  sent  the  horse  of  the  other  to  its 
knees  and  then  over  on  its  side.  Shorty  very 
promptly  crawled  behind  it  and,  as  he  did  so, 
Skinny  began  a  wide  circle,  firing  at  intervals 
as  Shorty's  smoke  cleared  away. 

Shorty  had  the  best  position  for  defense,  as 
he  was  in  a  shallow  coulee,  but  he  knew  that 
he  could  not  leave  it  until  his  opponent  had 
either  grown  tired  of  the  affair  or  had  used  up 
his  ammunition.  Skinny  knew  it,  too.  Skinny 
also  knew  that  he  could  get  back  to  the  ranch 
8 


Shorty  had  the  best  position  for  defense  " 


BUCKSKIN 


house  and  lay  in  a  supply  of  food  and  ammu- 
nition and  return  before  Shorty  could  cover 
the  twelve  miles  he  had  to  go  on  foot. 

Finally  Thompson  began  to  head  for  home. 
He  had  carried  the  matter  as  far  as  he  could 
without  it  being  murder.  Too  much  time  had 
elapsed  now,  and,  besides,  it  was  before  break- 
fast and  he  was  hungry.  He  would  go  away 
and  settle  the  score  at  some  time  when  they 
would  be  on  equal  terms. 

He  rode  along  the  line  for  a  mile  and 
chanced  to  look  back.  Two  C  80  punchers 
were  riding  after  him,  and  as  they  saw  him 
turn  and  discover  them  they  fired  at  him  and 
yelled.  He  rode  on  for  some  distance  and 
cautiously  drew  his  rifle  out  of  its  long  holster 
at  his  right  leg.  Suddenly  he  turned  around 
in  the  saddle  and  fired  twice.  One  of  his 
pursuers  fell  forward  on  the  neck  of  his  horse, 
and  his  comrade  turned  to  help  him.  Thomp- 
son wigwagged  again  and  rode  on,  reaching 
the  ranch  as  the  others  were  finishing  their 
breakfast. 

At  the  table  Red  Connors  remarked  that 

9 


BAR  —  20 


the  tardy  one  had  a  hole  in  his  sombrero,  and 
asked  its  owner  how  and  where  he  had  re- 
ceived it. 

"  Had  a  argument  with  C  80  out'n  th' 
line." 

"Go  'way!    Ventilate  enny ?" 

"One."   ' 

"Good  boy,  sonny!  Hey,  Hopalong, 
Skinny  perforated  C  80  this  mawnin' !  " 

Hopalong  Cassidy  was  struggling  with  a 
mouthful  of  beef.  He  turned  his  eyes  toward 
Red  without  ceasing,  and  grinning  as  well  as 
he  could  under  the  circumstances  managed  to 
grunt  out  "  Gu — ,"  which  was  as  near  to 
"  Good  "  as  the  beef  would  allow. 

Lanky  Smith  now  chimed  in  as  he  re- 
peatedly stuck  his  knife  into  a  reluctant  boiled 
potato,  "  How'd  yu  do  it,  Skinny?  " 

"  Bet  he  sneaked  up  on  him,"  joshed  Buck 
Peters;  "  did  yu  ask  his  pardin,  Skinny?  " 

"  Ask  nothin',"  remarked  Red,  "  he  jest 
nachurly  walks  up  to  C  80  an1  sez,  *  Kin  I 
have  the  pleasure  of  ventilatin'  yu?  '  an'  C  80 
he  sez,  '  If  yu  do  it  easy  like,'  sez  he.  Didn't 
he,  Thompson?  " 

10 


BUCKSKIN 


"  They'll  be  some  ventilatin'  under  th' 
table  if  yu  fellows  don't  lemme  alone;  I'm 
hungry,"  complained  Skinny. 

"  Say,  Hopalong,  I  bets  yu  I  kin  clean  up 
C  80  all  by  my  lonesome,"  announced  Buck, 
winking  at  Red. 

"  Yah !  Yu  onct  tried  to  clean  up  the  Bend, 
Buckle,  an'  if  Pete  an'  Billy  hadn't  afound  yu 
when  they  corne  by  Eagle  Pass  that  night  yu 
wouldn't  be  here  eatin'  beef  by  th'  pound," 
glancing  at  the  hard-working  Hopalong.  "  It 
was  plum'  lucky  f er  yu  that  they  was  acourtin' 
that  time,  wasn't  it,  Hopalong?"  suddenly 
asked  Red.  Hopalong  nearly  strangled  in 
his  efforts  to  speak.  He  gave  it  up  and 
nodded  his  head. 

"Why  can't  yu  git  it  straight,  Connors? 
I  wasn't  doin'  no  courtin',  it  was  Pete.  I 
runned  into  him  on  th'  other  side  o'  th'  pass. 
I'd  look  fine  acourtin',  wouldn't  I?"  asked 
the  downtrodden  Williams. 

Pete  Wilson  skillfully  flipped  a  potato  into 

that  worthy's  coffee,  spilling  the  beverage  of 

the  questionable  name  over  a  large  expanse  of 

blue  flannel  shirt.     "  Yu's  all  right,  yu  are. 

ii 


BAR  —  20 


Why,  when  I  meets  yu,  yu  was  lost  in  th' 
arms  of  yore  ladylove.  All  I  could  see  was 
yore  feet.  Go  an'  git  tangled  up  with  a  two 
hundred  and  forty  pound  half-breed  squaw 
an'  then  try  to  lay  it  onter  me !  When  I  pro- 
posed drownin'  yore  troubles  over  at  Cowan's, 
yu  went  an'  got  mad  over  what  yu  called  th' 
insinooation.  An'  yu  shore  didn't  look  any 
too  blamed  fine,  neither." 

"  All  th'  same,"  volunteered  Thompson, 
who  had  taken  the  edge  from  his  appetite, 
u  we  better  go  over  an'  pay  C  80  a  call.  I 
don't  like  what  Shorty  said  about  saltin'  our 
cattle.  He'll  shore  do  it,  unless  I  camps  on 
th'  line,  which  same  I  hain't  hankerin'  after." 

"  Oh,  he  wouldn't  stop  th'  cows  that  way, 
Skinny;  he  was  only  afoolin',"  exclaimed  Con- 
nors meekly. 

"  Foolin'  yore  gran'mother !  That  there 
bunch'll  do  anything  if  we  wasn't  lookin'," 
hotly  replied  Skinny. 

"  That's  shore  nuff  gospel,  Thomp.  They's 
sore  fer  mor'n  one  thing.  They  got  aplenty 
when  Buck  went  on  th'  warpath,  an'  they's 
hankerin'  to  git  square,"  remarked  Johnny 

12 


BUCKSKIN 


Nelson,  stealing  the  pie,  a  rare  treat,  of  his 
neighbor  when  that  unfortunate  individual 
was  not  looking.  He  had  it  halfway  to  his 
mouth  when  its  former  owner,  Jimmy  Price, 
a  boy  of  eighteen,  turned  his  head  and  saw  it 
going. 

"  Hi-yi !  Yu  clay-bank  coyote,  drap  thet 
pie !  Did  yu  ever  see  such  a  son-of-a-gun  fer 
pie?"  he  plaintively  asked  Red  Connors,  as 
he  grabbed  a  mighty  handful  of  apples  and 
crust.  "  Pie'll  kill  yu  some  day,  yu  bob- 
tailed  jack!  I  had  an  uncle  that  died  onct. 
He  et  too  much  pie  an'  he  went  an'  turned 
green,  an'  so'll  yu  if  yu  don't  let  it  alone." 

"  Yu  ought'r  seed  th'  pie  Johnny  had  down 
in  Eagle  Flat,"  murmured  Lanky  Smith 
reminiscently.  "  She  had  feet  that'd  stop  a 
stampede.  Johnny  was  shore  loco  about  her. 
Swore  she  was  the  finest  blossom  that  ever 
growed."  Here  he  choked  and  tears  of  laugh- 
ter coursed  down  his  weather-beaten  face  as 
he  pictured  her.  "  She  was  a  dainty  Greaser, 
about  fifteen  han's  high  an'  about  sixteen  han's 
around.  Johnny  used  to  chalk  off  when  he 
hugged  her,  usen't  yu,  Johnny?  One  night 
13 


BAR  — 20 


when  he  had  got  purty  well  around  on  th' 
second  lap  he  run  inter  a  Greaser  jest  startin' 
out  on  his  fust.  They  hain't  caught  that 
Mexican  yet." 

Nelson  was  pelted  with  everything  in  sight. 
He  slowly  wiped  off  the  pie  crust  and  bread 
and  potatoes.  "  Anybody'd  think  I  was  a 
busted  grub  wagon,"  he  grumbled.  When 
he  had  fished  the  last  piece  of  beef  out  of 
his  ear  he  went  out  and  offered  to  stand  treat. 
As  the  round-up  was  over,  they  slid  into  their 
saddles  and  raced  for  Cowan's  saloon  at 
Buckskin. 


CHAPTER    II 

THE  RASHNESS  OF  SHORTY 

BUCKSKIN  was  very  hot;  in  fact  it  was 
never  anything  else.  Few  people  were 
on  the  streets  and  the  town  was  quiet.  Over 
in  the  Houston  hotel  a  crowd  of  cowboys  was 
lounging  in  the  barroom.  They  were  very 
quiet — a  condition  as  rare  as  it  was  ominous. 
Their  mounts,  twelve  in  all,  were  switching 
flies  from  their  quivering  skins  in  the  corral 
at  the  rear.  Eight  of  these  had  a  large  C  80 
branded  on  their  flanks;  the  other  four,  a 
Double  Arrow. 

In  the  barroom  a  slim,  wiry  man  was  look- 
ing out  of  the  dirty  window  up  the  street  at 
Cowan's  saloon.  Shorty  was  complaining, 
"  They  shore  oughter  be  here  now.  They 
rounded  up  last  week."  The  man  nearest 
assured  him  that  they  would  come.  The  man 
at  the  window  turned  and  said,  "  They's  yer 


now." 


BAR —  20 


In  front  of  Cowan's  a  crowd  of  nine  happy- 
go-lucky,  dare-devil  riders  were  sliding  from 
their  saddles.  They  threw  the  reins  over  the 
heads  of  their  mounts  and  filed  in  to  the  bar. 
Laughter  issued  from  the  open  door  and  the 
clink  of  glasses  could  be  heard.  They  stood 
in  picturesque  groups,  strong,  self-reliant, 
humorous,  virile.  Their  expensive  sombreros 
were  pushed  far  back  on  their  heads  and  their 
hairy  chaps  were  covered  with  the  alkali  dust 
from  their  ride. 

Cowan,  bottle  in  hand,  pushed  out  several 
more  glasses.  He  kicked  a  dog  from  under 
his  feet  and  looked  at  Buck.  "  Rounded  up 
yet?  "  he  inquired. 

"  Shore,  day  afore  yisterday,"  came  the 
reply.  The  rest  were  busy  removing  the  dust 
from  their  throats,  and  gradually  drifted  into 
groups  of  two  or  three.  One  of  these  groups 
strolled  over  to  the  solitary  card  table,  and 
found  Jimmy  Price  resting  in  a  cheap  chair, 
his  legs  on  the  table. 

"  I  wisht  yu'd  extricate  yore  delicate  feet 
from  off'n  this  hyar  table,  James,"  humbly 
16 


THE    RASHNESS    OF    SHORTY 

requested  Lanky  Smith,  morally  backed  up 
by  those  with  him. 

"  Ya-as,  they  shore  is  delicate,  Mr.  Smith," 
responded  Jimmy,  without  moving. 

"  We  wants  to  play  draw,  Jimmy,"  ex- 
plained Pete. 

"  Yore  shore  welcome  to  play  if  yu  wants 
to.  Didn't  I  tell  yu  when  yu  growed  that 
mustache  that  yu  didn't  have  to  ask  me  any 
more?  "  queried  the  placid  James,  paternally. 

"  Call  'em  off,  sonny.  Pete  sez  he  kin 
clean  me  out.  Anyhow,  yu  kin  have  the  fust 
deal,"  compromised  Lanky. 

"  I'm  shore  sorry  fer  Pete  if  he  cayn't.  Yu 
don't  reckon  I  has  to  have  fust  deal  to  beat 
yu  fellers,  do  yu  ?  Go  way  an'  lemme  alone ; 
I  never  seed  such  a  bunch  fer  buttin'  in  as  yu 
fellers." 

Billy  Williams  returned  to  the  bar.  Then 
he  walked  along  it  until  he  was  behind  the 
recalcitrant  possessor  of  the  table.  While  his 
aggrieved  friends  shuffled  their  feet  uneasily 
to  cover  his  approach,  he  tiptoed  up  behind 
Jimmy  and,  with  a  nod,  grasped  that  indig- 


BAR  — 20 


nant  individual  firmly  by  the  neck  while  the 
others  grabbed  his  feet.  They  carried  him, 
twisting  and  bucking,  to  the  middle  of  the 
street  and  deposited  him  in  the  dust,  return- 
ing to  the  now  vacant  table. 

Jimmy  rested  quietly  for  a  few  seconds  and 
then  slowly  arose,  dusting  the  alkali  from  him. 
"  Th'  wall-eyed  piruts,"  he  muttered,  and 
then  scratched  his  head  for  a  way  to  "  play 
hunk."  As  he  gazed  sorrowfully  at  the  saloon 
he  heard  a  snicker  from  behind  him.  He, 
thinking  it  was  one  of  his  late  tormentors, 
paid  no  attention  to  it.  Then  a  cynical,  biting 
laugh  stung  him.  He  wheeled,  to  see  Shorty 
leaning  against  a  tree,  a  sneering  leer  on  his 
flushed  face.  Shorty's  right  hand  was  sus- 
pended above  his  holster,  hooked  to  his  belt 
by  the  thumb — a  favorite  position  of  his  when 
expecting  trouble. 

"  One  of  yore  reg'lar  habits?  "  he  drawled. 

Jimmy  began  to  dust  himself  in  silence,  but 
his  lips  were  compressed  to  a  thin  white  line. 

"Does  they  hurt  yu?"  pursued  the  on- 
looker. 

Jimmy  looked  up.  "I  heard  tell  that  they 
18 


THE    RASHNESS    OF    SHORTY 

make  glue  outen  cayuses,  sometimes,"  he  re- 
marked. 

Shorty's  eyes  flashed.  The  loss  of  the  horse 
had  been  rankling  in  his  heart  all  day. 

"  Does  they  git  yu  frequent?"  he  asked. 
His  voice  sounded  hard. 

"  Oh,  'bout  as  frequent  as  yu  lose  a  cayuse, 
I  reckon,"  replied  Jimmy  hotly. 

Shorty's  hand  streaked  to  his  holster  and 
Jimmy  followed  his  lead.  Jimmy's  Colt  was 
caught.  He  had  bucked  too  much.  As  he 
fell  Shorty  ran  for  the  Houston  House. 

Pistol  shots  were  common,  for  they  were 
the  universal  method  of  expressing  emotions. 
The  poker  players  grinned,  thinking  their 
victim  was  letting  off  his  indignation.  Lanky 
sized  up  his  hand  and  remarked  half  audibly, 
"  He's  a  shore  good  kid." 

The  bartender,  fearing  for  his  new  beveled, 
gilt-framed  mirror,  gave  a  hasty  glance  out 
the  window.  He  turned  around,  made  change 
and  remarked  to  Buck,  "  Yore  kid,  Jimmy,  is 
plugged."  Several  of  the  more  credulous 
craned  their  necks  to  see,  Buck  being  the  first. 
"  H — 1!  "  he  shouted,  and  ran  out  to  where 
19 


BAR  —  20 


Jimmy  lay  coughing,  his  toes  twitching.  The 
saloon  was  deserted  and  a  crowd  of  angry 
cowboys  surrounded  their  chum — a  boy. 
Buck  had  seen  Shorty  enter  the  door  of  the 
Houston  House  and  he  swore.  "  Chase  them 

cayuses  behind  th'  saloon,  Pete, 

an'  git  under  cover." 

Jimmy  was  choking  and  he  coughed  up 
blood.  "  He's  shore — got  me.  My — gun 
stuck,"  he  added  apologetically.  He  tried  to 
sit  up,  but  was  not  able  and  he  looked  sur- 
prised. "  It's  purty — damn  hot — out  here," 
he  suggested.  Johnny  and  Billy  carried  him 
in  the  saloon  and  placed  him  by  the  table,  in 
the  chair  he  had  previously  vacated.  As  they 
stood  up  he  fell  across  the  table  and  died. 

Billy  placed  the  dead  boy's  sombrero  on  his 
head  and  laid  the  refractory  six-shooter  on  the 

table.  "  I  wonder  who  th' was." 

He  looked  at  the  slim  figure  and  started  to 
go  out,  followed  by  Johnny.  As  he  reached 
the  threshold  a  bullet  zipped  past  him  and 
thudded  into  the  frame  of  the  door.  He 
backed  away  and  looked  surprised.  '  That's 
Shorty's  shootin' — he  allus  misses  'bout  that 
20 


THE    RASHNESS    OF    SHORTY 

much."  He  looked  out  and  saw  Buck  stand- 
ing behind  the  live  oak  that  Shorty  had  leaned 
against,  firing  at  the  hotel.  Turning  around 
he  made  for  the  rear,  remarking  to  Johnny 
that  "  they's  in  th'  Houston."  Johnny  looked 
at  the  quiet  figure  in  the  chair  and  swore 
softly.  He  followed  Billy.  Cowan,  closing 
the  door  and  taking  a  .6o-caliber  buffalo  gun 
from  under  the  bar,  went  out  also  and 
slammed  the  rear  door  forcibly. 


21 


CHAPTER    III 

THE  ARGUMENT 

UP  the  street  two  hundred  yards  from  the 
Houston  House  Skinny  and  Pete  lay 
hidden  behind  a  bowlder.  Three  hundred 
yards  on  the  other  side  of  the  hotel  Johnny 
and  Billy  were  stretched  out  in  an  arroyo. 
Buck  was  lying  down  now,  and  Hopalong, 
from  his  position  in  the  barn  belonging  to  the 
hotel,  was  methodically  dropping  the  horses 
of  the  besieged,  a  job  he  hated  as  much  as  he 
hated  poison.  The  corral  was  their  death 
trap.  Red  and  Lanky  were  emitting  clouds 
of  smoke  from  behind  the  store,  immediately 
across  the  street  from  the  barroom.  A  .60 
caliber  buffalo  gun  roared  down  by  the  plaza 
and  several  Sharps  cracked  a  protest  from 
different  points.  The  town  had  awakened 
and  the  shots  were  dropping  steadily. 

Strange  noises  filled  the  air.    They  grew  in 
tone  and  volume  and  then  dwindled  away  to 
22 


THE  ARGUMENT 


nothing.  The  hum  of  the  buffalo  gun  and 
the  sobbing  pi-in-in-ing  of  the  Winchesters 
were  liberally  mixed  with  the  sharp  whines 
of  the  revolvers. 

There  were  no  windows  in  the  hotel  now. 
Raw  furrows  in  the  bleached  wood  showed 
yellow,  and  splinters  mysteriously  sprang  from 
the  casings.  The  panels  of  the  door  were 
producing  cracks  and  the  cheap  door  handle 
flew  many  ways  at  once.  An  empty  whisky 
keg  on  the  stoop  boomed  out  mournfully  at 
intervals  and  finally  rolled  down  the  steps 
with  a  rumbling  protest.  Wisps  of  smoke 
slowly  climbed  up  the  walls  and  seemed  to  be 
waving  defiance  to  the  curling  wisps  in  the 
open. 

Pete  raised  his  shoulder  to  refill  the  maga- 
zine of  his  smoking  rifle  and  dropped  the 
cartridges  all  over  his  lap.  He  looked  sheep- 
ishly at  Skinny  and  began  to  load  with  his 
other  hand. 

"  Yore  plum'  loco,  yu  are.    Don't  yu  reckon 
they  kin  hit  a  blue  shirt  at  two  hundred?" 
Skinny  cynically  inquired.      "  Got  one  that 
time,"  he  announced  a  second  later. 
23 


BAR  — 20 


"  I  wonder  who's  got  th'  buffalo,"  grunted 
Pete.  "  Mus'  be  Cowan,"  he  replied  to  his 
own  question  and  settled  himself  to  use  his 
left  hand. 

"  Don't  yu  git  Shorty;  he's  my  meat," 
suggested  Skinny. 

4  Yu  better  tell  Buck — he  ain't  got  no  love 
fer  Shorty,"  replied  Pete,  aiming  carefully. 

The  panic  in  the  corral  ceased  and  Hopa- 
long  was  now  sending  his  regrets  against  the 
panels  of  the  rear  door.  He  had  cut  his  last 
initial  in  the  near  panel  and  was  starting  a 
wobbly  "  H  "  in  its  neighbor.  He  was  in  a 
good  position.  There  were  no  windows  in 
the  rear  wall,  and  as  the  door  was  a  very 
dangerous  place  he  was  not  fired  at. 

He  began  to  get  tired  of  this  one-sided 
business  and  crawled  up  on  the  window  ledge, 
dangling  his  feet  on  the  outside.  He  occa- 
sionally sent  a  bullet  at  a  different  part  of  the 
door,  but  amused  himself  by  annoying  Buck. 

"Plenty  hot  down  there?"  he  pleasantly 
inquired,  and  as  he  received  no  answer  he 
tried  again.     "  Better  save  some  of  them 
cartridges  fer  some  other  time,  Buck." 
24 


THE  ARGUMENT 


Buck  was  sending  .45  Winchesters  into  the 
shattered  window  with  a  precision  that  pre- 
saged evil  to  any  of  the  defenders  who  were 
rash  enough  to  try  to  gain  the  other  end  of 
the  room. 

Hopalong  bit  off  a  chew  of  tobacco  and 
drowned  a  green  fly  that  was  crawling  up  the 
side  of  the  barn.  The  yellow  liquid  streaked 
downward  a  short  distance  and  was  eagerly 
sucked  up  by  the  warped  boards. 

A  spurt  of  smoke  leaped  from  the  battered 
door  and  the  bored  Hopalong  promptly  tum- 
bled back  inside.  He  felt  of  his  arm,  and 
then,  delighted  at  the  notice  taken  of  his 
artistic  efforts,  shot  several  times  from  a  crack 
on  his  right.  u  This  yer's  shore  gittin'  like 
home,"  he  gravely  remarked  to  the  splinter 
that  whizzed  past  his  head.  He  shot  again 
at  the  door  and  it  sagged  outward,  accom- 
panied by  the  thud  of  a  falling  body.  "  Pies 
like  mother  used  to  make,"  he  announced  to 
the  empty  loft  as  he  slipped  the  magazine  full 
of  .45  's.  "  An'  pills  like  popper  used  to 
take,"  he  continued  when  he  had  lowered  the 
level  of  the  liquor  in  his  flask. 
25 


BAR  —  20 


He  rolled  a  cigarette  and  tossed  the  match 
into  the  air,  extinguishing  it  by  a  shot  from 
his  Colt. 

"  Got  any  cigarettes,  Hoppy?  "  said  a  voice 
from  below. 

"  Shore,"  replied  the  joyous  puncher,  recog- 
nizing Pete;  "  how'd  yu  git  here?  " 

"Like  a  cow.    Busy?" 

"  None  whatever.     Comin'  up  ?  " 

"  Nope.     Skinny  wants  a  smoke  too." 

Hopalong  handed  tobacco  and  papers  down 
the  hole.  "  So  long." 

"  So  long,"  replied  the  daring  Pete,  who 
risked  death  twice  for  a  smoke. 

The  hot  afternoon  dragged  along  and 
about  three  o'clock  Buck  held  up  an  empty 
cartridge  belt  to  the  gaze  of  the  curious  Hopa- 
long. That  observant  worthy  nodded  and 
threw  a  double  handful  of  cartridges,  one  by 
one,  to  the  patient  and  unrelenting  Buck,  who 
filled  his  gun  and  piled  the  few  remaining  ones 
up  at  his  side.  "  Th'  lives  of  mice  and  men 
gang  aft  all  wrong,"  he  remarked  at  random. 

"  Th'  son-of-a-gun's  talkin'  Shakespeare," 
marveled  Hopalong. 

26 


THE  ARGUMENT 


"Satiate  any,  Buck?"  he  asked  as  that 
worthy  settled  down  to  await  his  chance. 

"  Two,"  he  replied,  "  Shorty  an'  another. 
Plenty  damn  hot  down  here,"  he  complained. 
A  spurt  of  alkali  dust  stung  his  face,  but 
the  hand  that  made  it  never  made  another. 
"  Three,"  he  called.  "  How  many,  Hoppy?  " 

"  One.  That's  four.  Wonder  if  th'  others 
got  any?  " 

"  Pete  said  Skinny  got  one,"  replied  the 
intent  Buck. 

"  Th'  son-of-a-gun,  he  never  said  nothin' 
about  it,  an'  me  a  fillin'  his  ornery  paws  with 
smokin'."  Hopalong  was  indignant. 

"  Bet  yu  ten  we  don't  git  'em  afore  dark," 
he  announced. 

"  Got  yu.  Go  yu  ten  more  I  gits  another," 
promptly  responded  Buck. 

"  That's  a  shore  cinch.  Make  her  twenty." 

"  She  is." 

"  Yu'll  have  to  square  it  with  Skinny,  he 
shore  wanted  Shorty  plum'  bad,"  Hopalong 
informed  the  unerring  marksman. 

"  Why  didn't  he  say  suthin'  about  it?  Any- 
how, Jimmy  was  my  bunkie." 
27 


BAR  — i  20 


Hopalong's  cigarette  disintegrated  and  the 
board  at  his  left  received  a  hole.  He  promptly 
disappeared  and  Buck  laughed.  He  sat  up 
in  the  loft  and  angrily  spat  the  soaked  paper 
out  from  between  his  lips. 

"  All  that  trouble  fer  nothin',  th'  white- 
eyed  coyote,"  he  muttered.  Then  he  crawled 
around  to  one  side  and  fired  at  the  center  of 
his  "  C."  Another  shot  hurtled  at  him  and 
his  left  arm  fell  to  his  side.  "  That's  funny 
— wonder  where  th'  damn  pirut  is?"  He 
looked  out  cautiously  and  saw  a  cloud  of 
smoke  over  a  knothole  which  was  situated 
close  up  under  the  eaves  of  the  barroom ;  and 
it  was  being  agitated.  Some  one  was  blowing 
at  it  to  make  it  disappear.  He  aimed  very 
carefully  at  the  knot  and  fired.  He  heard  a 
sound  between  a  curse  and  a  squawk  and  was 
not  molested  any  further  from  that  point. 

"  I  knowed  he'd  git  hurt,"  he  explained  to 
the  bandage,  torn  from  the  edge  of  his  ker- 
chief, which  he  carefully  bound  around  his 
last  wound. 

Down  in  the  arroyo  Johnny  was  com- 
plaining. 

28 


THE  ARGUMENT 


"  This  yer's  a  no  good  bunk,"  he  plain- 
tively remarked. 

"  It  shore  ain't — but  it's  th'  best  we  kin 
find,"  apologized  Billy. 

"  That's  th'  sixth  that  feller  sent  up  there. 
He's  a  damn  poor  shot,"  observed  Johnny; 
"  must  be  Shorty." 

"  Shorty  kin  shoot  plum'  good — tain't 
him,"  contradicted  Billy. 

"  Yas — with  a  six-shooter.  He's  off'n  his 
feed  with  a  rifle,"  explained  Johnny. 

"Yu  wants  to  stay  down  from  up  there, 
yu  ijit,"  warned  Billy  as  the  disgusted  Johnny 
crawled  up  the  bank.  He  slid  down  again 
with  a  welt  on  his  neck. 

"  That's  somebody  else  now.  He  oughter 
a  done  better'n  that,"  he  said. 

Billy  had  fired  as  Johnny  started  to  slide 
and  he  smoothed  his  aggrieved  chum.  "  He 
could  onct,  yu  means." 

"  Did  yu  git  him?"  asked  the  anxious 
Johnny,  rubbing  his  welt. 

"  Plum'   center,"   responded  the  business- 
like Billy.     u  Go  up  agin,  mebby  I  kin  git  an- 
other," he  suggested  tentatively. 
29 


BAR  —  20 


"  Mebby  you  kin  go  to  h — 1.  I  ain't  no 
gallery,"  grinned  the  now  exuberant  owner 
of  the  welt. 

"Who's  got  th'  buffalo?"  he  inquired  as 
the  .60  caliber  roared. 

"  Mus'  be  Cowan.  He's  shore  all  right. 
Sounds  like  a  bloomin'  cannon,"  replied  Billy. 
"  Lemme  alone  with  yore  fool  questions,  I'm 
busy,"  he  complained  as  his  talkative  partner 
started  to  ask  another.  "  Go  an'  git  me  some 
water — I'm  alkalied.  An'  git  some  .45  's, 
mine's  purty  near  gone." 

Johnny  crawled  down  the  arroyo  and  reap- 
peared at  Hopalong's  barn. 

As  he  entered  the  door  a  handful  of  empty 
shells  fell  on  his  hat  and  dropped  to  the  floor. 
He  shook  his  head  and  remarked,  "  That  mus' 
be  that  fool  Hopalong." 

"Yore  shore  right.  How's  business?" 
inquired  the  festive  Cassidy. 

"  Purty  fair.  Billy's  got  one.  How  many's 
gone?" 

"  Buck's  got  three,  I  got  two  and  Skinny's 
got  one.      That's   six,,  an'   Billy's   is  seven. 
They's  five  more,"  he  replied. 
30 


THE  ARGUMENT 


"  How'd  yu  know?  "  queried  Johnny  as  he 
filled  his  flask  at  the  horse  trough. 

"  Because  they's  twelve  cayuses  behind  th' 
hotel.  That's  why." 

1  They  might  git  away  on  'em,"  suggested 
the  practical  Johnny. 

"  Can't.     They's  all  cashed  in." 

"  Yu  said  that  they's  five  left,"  ejaculated 
the  puzzled  water  carrier. 

"  Yah;  yore  a  smart  cuss,  ain't  yu?  " 

Johnny  grinned  and  then  said,  "  Got  any 
smokin'?" 

Hopalong  looked  grieved.  "  I  ain't  no 
store.  Why  don't  yu  git  generous  and  buy 
some?  " 

He  partially  filled  Johnny's  hand,  and  as 
he  put  the  sadly  depleted  bag  away  he  in- 
quired, "  Got  any  papers?  " 

"  Nope." 

"  Got  any  matches?  "  he  asked  cynically. 

"  Nope." 

"Kin  yu  smoke  'em?"  he  yelled,  indig- 
nantly. 

"  Shore  nuff,"  placidly  replied  the  unruffled 
Johnny.  "  Billy  wants  some  .45  's." 


BAR  —  20 


Hopalong  gasped.  "  Don't  he  want  my 
gun,  too  ?  " 

"  Nope.  Got  a  better  one.  Hurry  up, 
he'll  git  mad." 

Hopalong  was  a  very  methodical  person. 
He  was  the  only  one  of  his  crowd  to  carry  a 
second  cartridge  strap.  It  hung  over  his 
right  shoulder  and  rested  on  his  left  hip,  hold- 
ing one  hundred  cartridges  and  his  second 
Colt.  His  waist  belt  held  fifty  cartridges  and 
all  would  fit  both  the  rifle  and  revolvers.  He 
extracted  twenty  from  that  part  of  the  shoul- 
der strap  hardest  to  get  at,  the  back,  by  simply 
pulling  it  over  his  shoulder  and  plucking  out 
the  bullets  as  they  came  into  reach. 

"  That's  all  yu  kin  have.  I'm  Buck's  am- 
mernition  jackass,"  he  explained.  "  Bet  yu 
ten  we  gits  'em  afore  dark  " — he  was  hedging. 

"  Any  fool  knows  that.  I'll  take  yu  if  yu 
bets  th'  other  way,"  responded  Johnny,  grin- 
ning. He  knew  Hopalong's  weak  spot. 

"  Yore  on,"  promptly  responded  Hopa- 
long, who  would  bet  on  anything. 

"  Well,  so  long,"  said  Johnny  as  he  crawled 
away. 

32 


THE  ARGUMENT 


"Hey,  yu,  Johnny!"  called  out  Hopa- 
long,  "  don't  yu  go  an'  tell  anybody  I  got 
any  pills  left.  I  ain't  no  ars'nal." 

Johnny  replied  by  elevating  one  foot  and 
waving  it.  Then  he  disappeared. 

Behind  the  store,  the  most  precarious  posi- 
tion among  the  besiegers,  Red  Connors  and 
Lanky  Smith  were  ensconced  and  commanded 
a  view  of  the  entire  length  of  the  barroom. 
They  could  see  the  dark  mass  they  knew  to 
be  the  rear  door  and  derived  a  great  amount 
of  amusement  from  the  spots  of  light  which 
were  appearing  in  it. 

They  watched  the  UC"  (reversed  to  them) 
appear  and  be  completed.  When  the  wobbly 
"  H "  grew  to  completion  they  laughed 
heartily.  Then  the  hardwood  bar  had  been 
dragged  across  their  field  of  vision  and  up  to 
the  front  windows,  and  they  could  only  see 
the  indiscriminate  holes  which  appeared  in  the 
upper  panels  at  frequent  intervals. 

Every  time  they  fired  they  had  to  expose 
a  part  of  themselves  to  a  return  shot,  with 
the  result  that  Lanky's  forearm  was  seared 
33 


BAR —  20 


its  entire  length.  Red  had  been  more  for- 
tunate and  only  had  a  bruised  ear. 

They  laboriously  rolled  several  large  rocks 
out  in  the  open,  pushing  them  beyond  the 
shelter  of  the  store  with  their  rifles.  When 
they  had  crawled  behind  them  they  each  had 
another  wound.  From  their  new  position 
they  could  see  Hopalong  sitting  in  his  win- 
dow. He  promptly  waved  his  sombrero  and 
grinned. 

They  were  the  most  experienced  fighters  of 
all  except  Buck,  and  were  saving  their  shots. 
When  they  did  shoot  they  always  had  some 
portion  of  a  man's  body  to  aim  at,  and  the 
damage  they  inflicted  was  considerable.  They 
said  nothing,  being  older  than  the  rest  and 
more  taciturn,  and  they  were  not  reck- 
less. Although  Hopalong's  antics  made  them 
laugh,  they  grumbled  at  his  recklessness  and 
were  not  tempted  to  emulate  him.  It  was 
noticeable,  too,  that  they  shoved  their  rifles 
out  simultaneously  and,  although  both  were 
aiming,  only  one  fired.  Lanky's  gun  cracked 
so  close  to  the  enemy's  that  the  whirr  of  the 
34 


THE  ARGUMENT 


bullet  over  Red's  head  was  merged  in  the 
crack  of  his  partner's  reply. 

When  Hopalong  saw  the  rocks  roll  out 
from  behind  the  store  he  grew  very  curious. 
Then  he  saw  a  flash,  followed  instantly  by 
another  from  the  second  rifle.  He  saw  sev- 
eral of  these  follow  shots  and  could  sit  in 
silence  no  longer.  He  waved  his  hat  to  at- 
tract attention  and  then  shouted,  "  How 
many?  "  A  shot  was  sent  straight  up  in  the 
air  and  he  notified  Buck  that  there  were  only 
four  left. 

The  fire  of  these  four  grew  less  rapid — 
they  were  saving  their  ammunition.  A  pot 
shot  at  Hopalong  sent  that  gentleman's  rifle 
hurtling  to  the  ground.  Another  tore  through 
his  hat,  removing  a  neat  amount  of  skin  and 
hair  and  giving  him  a  lifelong  part.  He  fell 
back  inside  and  proceeded  to  shoot  fast  and 
straight  with  his  revolvers,  his  head  burning 
as  though  on  fire.  When  he  had  vented  the 
dangerous  pressure  of  his  anger  he  went  below 
and  tried  to  fish  the  rifle  in  with  a  long  stick. 
It  was  obdurate,  so  he  sent  three  more  shots 
35 


BAR  —  20 


into  the  door,  and,  receiving  no  reply,  ran  out 
around  the  corner  of  his  shelter  and  grasped 
the  weapon.  When  half  way  back  he  sank 
to  the  ground.  Before  another  shot  could  be 
fired  at  him  with  any  judgment  a  ripping, 
spitting  rifle  was  being  frantically  worked 
from  the  barn.  The  bullets  tore  the  door 
into  seams  and  gaps;  the  lowest  panel,  the 
one  having  the  "  H  "  in  it,  fell  inward  in 
chunks.  Johnny  had  returned  for  another 
smoke. 

Hopalong,  still  grasping  the  rifle,  rolled 
rapidly  around  the  corner  of  the  barn0  He 
endeavored  to  stand,  but  could  not.  Johnny, 
hearing  rapid  and  fluent  swearing,  came  out. 

"  Where'd  they  git  yu?  "  he  asked. 

"  In  th'  off  leg.  Hurts  like  h— 1.  Did  yu 
git  him?" 

"  Nope.  I  jest  come  fer  another  cig;  got 
any  left?" 

"  Up  above.  Yore  gall  is  shore  appallin'. 
Help  me  in,  yu  two-laigged  jackass." 

"  Shore.  We'll  shore  pay  our  'tendons  to 
that  door.  She'll  go  purty  soon — she's  as 

36 


THE  ARGUMENT 


full  of  holes  as  th'  Bad  Lan's,"  replied 
Johnny.  "  Git  aholt  an'  hop  along,  Hopa- 
long." 

He  helped  the  swearing  Hopalong  inside, 
and  then  the  lead  they  pumped  into  the 
wrecked  door  was  scandalous.  Another  panel 
fell  in  and  Hopalong's  "  C  "  was  destroyed. 
A  wide  crack  appeared  in  the  one  above  it 
and  grew  rapidly.  Its  mate  began  to  gape 
and  finally  both  were  driven  in.  The  increase 
in  the  light  caused  by  these  openings  allowed 
Red  and  Lanky  to  secure  better  aim  and  soon 
the  fire  of  the  defenders  died  out. 

Johnny  dropped  his  rifle  and,  drawing  his 
six-shooter,  ran  out  and  dashed  for  the  dilapi- 
dated door,  while  Hopalong  covered  that 
opening  with  a  fusilade. 

As  Johnny's  shoulder  sent  the  framework 
flying  inward  he  narrowly  missed  sudden 
death.  As  it  was  he  staggered  to  the  side, 
out  of  range,  and  dropped  full  length  to  the 
ground,  flat  on  his  face.  Hopalong's  rifle 
cracked  incessantly,  but  to  no  avail.  The  man 
who  had  fired  the  shot  was  dead.  Buck  got 
37 


BAR  — 20 


him  immediately  after  he  had  shot  Johnny. 

Calling  to  Skinny  and  Red  to  cover  him, 
Buck  sprinted  to  where  Johnny  lay  gasping. 
The  bullet  had  entered  his  breast,  just  missed 
his  lungs  and  had  passed  out  his  back.  Buck, 
Colt  in  hand,  leaped  through  the  door,  but 
met  with  no  resistance.  He  signaled  to  Hop- 
along,  who  yelled,  "  They's  none  left." 

The  trees  and  rocks  and  gullies  and  build- 
ings yielded  men  who  soon  crowded  around 
the  hotel.  A  young  doctor,  lately  graduated, 
appeared.  It  was  his  first  case,  but  he  eased 
Johnny  and  saved  his  life.  Then  he  went 
over  to  Hopalong,  who  was  now  raving,  and 
attended  to  him.  The  others  were  patched  up 
as  well  as  possible  and  the  struggling  young 
physician  had  his  pockets  crammed  full  of 
gold  and  silver  coins. 

The  scene  of  the  wrecked  barroom  was 
indescribable.  Holes,  furrows,  shattered 
glass  and  bottles,  the  liquor  oozing  down  the 
walls  of  the  shelves  and  running  over  the 
floor;  the  ruined  furniture,  a  wrecked  bar, 
seared  and  shattered  and  covered  with  blood ; 
bodies  as  they  had  been  piled  in  the  corners ; 

38 


THE  ARGUMENT 


ropes,  shells,  hats;  and  liquor  everywhere, 
over  everything,  met  the  gaze  of  those  who 
had  caused  the  chaos. 

Perry's  Bend  had  failed  to  wipe  out  the 
score. 


39 


CHAPTER    IV 

THE  VAGRANT   SIOUX 

BUCKSKIN  gradually  readjusted  itself 
to  the  conditions  which  had  existed  be- 
fore its  sudden  leap  into  the  limelight  as  a 
town  which  did  things.  The  soiree  at  the 
Houston  House  had  drifted  into  the  past, 
and  was  now  substantially  established  as  an 
epoch  in  the  history  of  the  town.  Exuberant 
joy  gave  way  to  dignity  and  deprecation,  and 
to  solid  satisfaction;  and  the  conversations 
across  the  bar  brought  forth  parallels  of  the 
affair  to  be  judged  impartially — and  the  im- 
partial judgment  was,  unanimously,  that  while 
there  had  undoubtedly  been  good  fights  before 
Perry's  Bend  had  disturbed  the  local  quiet, 
they  were  not  quite  up  to  the  new  standard  of 
strenuous  hospitality.  Finally  the  heat  blis- 
tered everything  back  into  the  old  state,  and 
the  shadows  continued  to  be  in  demand. 
One  afternoon,  a  month  after  the  reception 
40 


THE   VAGRANT   SIOUX 

of  the  honorable  delegation  from  Perry's 
Bend,  the  town  of  Buckskin  seemed  desolated, 
and  the  earth  and  the  buildings  thereon  were 
as  huge  furnaces  radiating  a  visible  heat,  but 
when  the  blazing  sun  had  begun  to  settle  in 
the  west  it  awoke  with  a  clamor  which  might 
have  been  laid  to  the  efforts  of  a  zealous 
Satan.  At  this  time  it  became  the  Mecca  of 
two  score  or  more  joyous  cowboys  from  the 
neighboring  ranches,  who  livened  things  as 
those  knights  of  the  saddle  could. 

In  the  scant  but  heavy  shadow  of  Cowan's 
saloon  sat  a  picturesque  figure  from  whom 
came  guttural,  resonant  rumblings  which 
mingled  in  a  spirit  of  loneliness  with  the  fret- 
ful sighs  of  a  flea-tormented  dog.  Both  dog 
and  master  were  vagrants,  and  they  were 
tolerated  because  it  was  a  matter  of  supreme 
indifference  as  to  who  came  or  how  long  they 
stayed  as  long  as  the  ethics  and  the  unwritten 
law  of  the  cow  country  were  inviolate.  And 
the  breaking  of  these  caused  no  unnecessary 
anxiety,  for  justice  was  both  speedy  and  sure. 

When  the  outcast  Sioux  and  his  yellow  dog 
had  drifted  into  town  some  few  months  before 


BAR  —  20 


they  had  caused  neither  expostulation  nor 
inquiry,  as  the  cardinal  virtue  of  that  whole 
broad  land  was  to  ask  a  man  no  questions 
which  might  prove  embarrassing  to  all  con- 
cerned; judgment  was  of  observation,  not  of 
history,  and  a  man's  past  would  reveal  itself 
through  actions.  It  mattered  little  whether 
he  was  an  embezzler  or  the  wild  chip  from 
some  prosperous  eastern  block,  as  men  came 
to  the  range  to  forget  and  to  lose  touch  with 
the  pampered  East;  and  the  range  absorbed 
them  as  its  own.  A  man  was  only  a  man  as 
his  skin  contained  the  qualities  necessary;  and 
the  illiterate  who  could  ride  and  shoot  and 
live  to  himself  was  far  more  esteemed  than 
the  educated  who  could  not  do  those  things. 
The  more  a  man  depends  upon  himself  and 
the  closer  is  his  contact  to  a  quick  judgment 
the  more  laconic  and  even-poised  he  becomes. 
And  the  knowledge  that  he  is  himself  a  judge 
tends  to  create  caution  and  judgment.  He 
has  no  court  to  uphold  his  honor  and  to  offer 
him  protection,  so  he  must  be  quick  to  protect 
himself  and  to  maintain  his  own  standing. 
His  nature  saved  him,  or  it  executed ;  and  the 
42 


THE  VAGRANT   SIOUX 

range  absolved  him  of  all  unpaid  penalties  of 
a  careless  past.  He  became  a  man  born  again 
and  he  took  up  his  burden,  the  exactions  of  a 
new  environment,  and  he  lived  as  long  as 
those  exactions  gave  him  the  right  to  live. 
He  must  tolerate  no  restrictions  of  his  natural 
rights,  and  he  must  not  restrict;  for  the  one 
would  proclaim  him  a  coward,  the  other  a 
bully;  and  both  received  short  shrifts  in  that 
land  of  the  self-protected.  The  basic  law  of 
nature  is  the  survival  of  the  fittest. 

So,  when  the  wanderers  found  their  level 
in  Buckskin  they  were  not  even  asked  by  what 
name  men  knew  them.  Not  caring  to  hear 
a  name  which  might  not  harmonize  with  their 
idea  of  the  fitness  of  things,  the  cowboys  of 
the  Bar-2O  had,  with  a  freedom  born  of 
excellent  livers  and  fearless  temperaments, 
bestowed  names  befitting  their  sense  of  humor 
and  adaptability.  The  official  title  of  the 
Sioux  was  By-and-by;  the  dog  was  known  as 
Fleas.  Never  had  names  more  clearly  de- 
scribed the  objects  to  be  represented,  for  they 
were  excellent  examples  of  cowboy  discern- 
ment and  aptitude. 

43 


BAR  —  20 


In  their  eyes  By-and-by  was  a  man.  He 
could  feel  and  he  could  resent  insults.  They 
did  not  class  him  as  one  of  themselves,  because 
he  did  not  have  energy  enough  to  demand 
and  justify  such  classification.  With  them  he 
had  a  right  to  enjoy  his  life  as  he  saw  fit  so 
long  as  he  did  not  trespass  on  or  restrict  the 
rights  of  others.  They  were  not  analytic  in 
temperament,  neither  were  they  moralists. 
He  was  not  a  menace  to  society,  because  so- 
ciety had  superb  defenses.  So  they  vaguely 
recognized  his  many  poor  qualities  and  clearly 
saw  his  few  good  ones.  He  could  shoot,  when 
permitted,  with  the  best;  no  horse,  however 
refractory,  had  ever  been  known  to  throw 
him;  he  was  an  adept  at  following  the  trails 
left  by  rustlers,  and  that  was  an  asset;  he  be- 
came of  value  to  the  community;  he  was  an 
economic  factor.  His  ability  to  consume  liquor 
with  indifferent  effects  raised  him  another 
notch  in  their  estimation.  He  was  not  always 
talking  when  some  one  else  wished  to — an- 
other count.  There  remained  about  him  that 
stoical  indifference  to  the  petty;  that  observ- 
ant nonchalance  of  the  Indian ;  and  there  was 
44 


THE  VAGRANT   SIOUX 

a  suggestion,  faint,  it  was  true,  of  a  dignity 
common  to  chieftains.  He  was  a  log  of 
grave  deference  which  tossed  on  their  sea  of 
mischievous  hilarity. 

He  wore  a  pair  of  corduroy  trousers, 
known  to  the  care-free  as  "  pants,"  which 
were  held  together  by  numerous  patches  of 
what  had  once  been  brilliantly  colored  calico. 
A  pair  of  suspenders,  torn  into  two  separate 
straps,  made  a  belt  for  himself  and  a  collar 
for  his  dog.  The  trousers  had  probably  been 
secured  during  a  fit  of  absent-mindedness  on 
his  part  when  their  former  owner  had  not 
been  looking.  Tucked  at  intervals  in  the  top 
of  the  corduroys  (the  exceptions  making  con- 
venient shelves  for  alkali  dust)  was  what  at 
one  time  had  been  a  stiff-bosomed  shirt.  This 
was  open  down  the  front  and  back,  the  weight 
of  the  trousers  on  the  belt  holding  it  firmly 
on  the  square  shoulders  of  the  wearer,  thus 
precluding  the  necessity  of  collar  buttons.  A 
pair  of  moccasins,  beautifully  worked  with 
wampum,  protected  his  feet  from  the  on- 
slaughts of  cacti  and  the  inquisitive  and  pug- 
nacious sand  flies;  and  lying  across  his  lap 
45 


BAR  —  20 


was  a  repeating  Winchester  rifle,  not  danger- 
ous because  it  was  empty,  a  condition  due  to 
the  wisdom  of  the  citizens  in  forbidding  any 
one  to  sell,  trade  or  give  to  him  those  tubes 
of  concentrated  trouble,  because  he  could  get 
drunk. 

The  two  were  contented  and  happy.  They 
had  no  cares  nor  duties,  and  their  pleasures 
were  simple  and  easily  secured,  as  they  con- 
sisted of  sleep  and  a  proneness  to  avoid  mov- 
ing. Like  the  untrammeled  coyote,  their  bed 
was  where  sleep  overtook  them;  their  food, 
what  the  night  wrapped  in  a  sense  of  security, 
or  the  generosity  of  the  cowboys  of  the 
Bar-2O.  No  tub-ridden  Diogenes  ever  knew 
so  little  of  responsibility  or  as  much  unadul- 
terated content.  There  is  a  penalty  even  to 
civilization  and  ambition. 

When  the  sun  had  cast  its  shadows  beyond 
By-and-by's  feet  the  air  became  charged  with 
noise;  shouts,  shots  and  the  rolling  thunder 
of  madly  pounding  hoofs  echoed  flatly 
throughout  the  town.  By-and-by  yawned, 
stretched  and  leaned  back,  reveling  in  the 
semi-conscious  ecstasy  of  the  knowledge  that 

46 


THE  VAGRANT   SIOUX 

he  did  not  have  to  immediately  get  up.  Fleas 
opened  one  eye  and  cocked  an  ear  in  inquiry, 
and  then  rolled  over  on  his  back,  squirmed 
and  sighed  contentedly  and  long.  The  outfit 
of  the  Bar— 20  had  come  to  town. 

The  noise  came  rapidly  nearer  and  in- 
creased in  volume  as  the  riders  turned  the 
corner  and  drew  rein  suddenly,  causing  their 
mounts  to  slide  on  their  haunches  in  ankle- 
deep  dust. 

"  Hullo,  old  Buck-with-th'-pants,  how's 
yore  liver?  " 

"  Come  up  an'  irrigate,  old  tank!  " 
"  Chase  th'  flea  ranch  an'  trail  along!  " 
These  were  a  few  of  the  salutations  discern- 
ible among  the  medley  of  playful  yells,  the 
safety  valves  of  supercharged  good-nature. 

"  Skr-e-e !  "  yelled  Hopalong  Cassidy,  let- 
ting off  a  fusillade  of  shots  in  the  vicinity  of 
Fleas,  who  rapidly  retreated  around  the  cor- 
ner, where  he  wagged  his  tail  in  eager  expec- 
tation. He  was  not  disappointed,  for  a  cow 
pony  tore  around  in  pursuit  and  Hopalong 
leaned  over  and  scratched  the  yellow  back, 
thumping  it  heartily,  and,  tossing  a  chunk  of 
47 


BAR  —  20 


beef  into  the  open  jaws  of  the  delighted  dog, 
departed  as  he  had  come.  The  advent  of  the 
outfit  meant  a  square  meal,  and  the  dog 
knew  it. 

In  Cowan's,  lined  up  against  the  bar,  the 
others  were  earnestly  and  assiduously  endeav- 
oring, with  a  promise  of  success,  to  get  By- 
and-by  drunk,  which  endeavors  coincided 
perfectly  with  By-and-by's  idea  of  the  fitness 
of  things.  The  fellowship  and  the  liquor 
combined  to  thaw  out  his  reserve  and  to 
loosen  his  tongue.  After  gazing  with  an  air 
of  injured  surprise  at  the  genial  loosening  of 
his  knees  he  gravely  handed  his  rifle  with  an 
exaggerated  sweep  of  his  arm,  to  the  cowboy 
nearest  him,  and  wrapped  his  arms  around 
the  recipient  to  insure  his  balance.  The  rifle 
was  passed  from  hand  to  hand  until  it  came 
to  Buck  Peters,  who  gravely  presented  it  to 
its  owner  as  a  new  gun. 

By-and-by  threw  out  his  stomach  in  an 
endeavor  to  keep  his  head  in  line  with  his 
heels,  and  grasping  the  weapon  with  both 
hands  turned  to  Cowan,  to  whom  he  gave  it. 

"  Yu  hab  this  un.    Me  got  two.    Me  keep 

48 


THE  VAGRANT   SIOUX 

new  un,  mebbyso."     Then  he  loosened  his 
belt  and  drank  long  and  deep. 

A  shadow  darkened  the  doorway  and  Hop- 
along  limped  in.  Spying  By-and-by  pushing 
the  bottle  into  his  mouth,  while  Red  Connors 
propped  him,  he  grinned  and  took  out  five 
silver  dollars,  which  he  jingled  under  By- 
and-by's  eyes,  causing  that  worthy  to  lay  aside 
the  liquor  and  erratically  grab  for  the  tanta- 
lizing fortune. 

"  Not  yet,  sabe?  "  said  Hopalong,  chang- 
ing the  position  of  the  money.  "  If  yu  wants 
to  corral  this  here  herd  of  simoleons  yu  has 
to  ride  a  cayuse  what  Red  bet  me  yu  can't 
ride.  Yu  has  got  to  grow  on  that  there  saddle 
and  stayed  growed  for  five  whole  minutes  by 
Buck's  ticker.  I  ain't  a-goin'  to  tell  yu  he's 
any  sawhorse,  for  yu'd  know  better,  as  yu 
reckons  Red  wouldn't  bet  on  no  losin'  propo- 
sition if  he  knowed  better,  which  same  he 
don't.  Yu  straddles  that  four-laigged  cloud- 
burst an'  yu  gets  these,  sabe?  I  ain't  seen 
th'  cayuse  yet  that  yu  couldn't  freeze  to,  an' 
I'm  backin'  my  opinions  with  my  moral  sup- 
port an'  one  month's  pay." 
49 


BAR  — 20 


By-and-by's  eyes  began  to  glitter  as  the 
meaning  of  the  words  sifted  through  his  be- 
fuddled mind.  Ride  a  horse — five  dollars — 
ride  a  five — dollars  horse — horses  ride  dol- 
lars— then  he  straightened  up  and  began  to 
speak  in  an  incoherent  jumble  of  Sioux  and 
bad  English.  He,  the  mighty  rider  of  the 
Sioux ;  he,  the  bravest  warrior  and  the  great- 
est hunter;  could  he  ride  a  horse  for  five 
dollars?  Well,  he  rather  thought  he  could. 
Grasping  Red  by  the  shoulder,  he  tacked  for 
the  door  and  narrowly  missed  hitting  the 
bottom  step  first,  landing,  as  it  happened,  in 
the  soft  dust  with  Red's  leg  around  his  neck. 
Somewhat  sobered  by  the  jar,  he  stood  up 
and  apologized  to  the  crowd  for  Red  getting 
in  the  way,  declaring  that  Red  was  a  "  Heap 
good  un,"  and  that  he  didn't  mean  to  do  it. 

The  outfit  of  the  Bar— 20  was,  perhaps,  the 
most  famous  of  all  from  Canada  to  the  Rio 
Grande.  The  foreman,  Buck  Peters,  con- 
trolled a  crowd  of  men  (who  had  all  the 
instincts  of  boys)  that  had  shown  no  quarter 
to  many  rustlers,  and  who,  while  always  care- 
free and  easy-going  (even  fighting  with  great 
50 


THE  VAGRANT  SIOUX 

good  humor  and  carelessness),  had  estab- 
lished the  reputation  of  being  the  most  reck- 
less gang  of  daredevil  gun-fighters  that  ever 
pounded  leather.  Crooked  gaming  houses, 
from  El  Paso  to  Cheyenne  and  from  Phoenix 
to  Leavenworth,  unanimously  and  enthusias- 
tically damned  them  from  their  boots  to  their 
sombreros,  and  the  sheriffs  and  marshals  of 
many  localities  had  received  from  their  hands 
most  timely  assistance — and  some  trouble. 
Wiry,  indomitable,  boyish  and  generous,  they 
were  splendid  examples  of  virile  manhood; 
and,  surrounded  as  they  were  with  great  dan- 
gers and  a  unique  civilization,  they  should  not, 
in  justice,  be  judged  by  opinions  born  of  the 
commonplace. 

They  were  real  cowboys,  which  means,  pub- 
lic opinion  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding, 
that  they  were  not  lawless,  nor  drunken,  shoot- 
ing bullies  who  held  life  cheaply,  as  their  kin 
has  been  unjustly  pictured;  but  while  these 
men  were  naturally  peaceable  they  had  to 
continually  rub  elbows  with  men  who  were 
not.  Gamblers,  criminals,  bullies  and  the 
riffraff  that  fled  from  the  protected  East  had 


BAR  — 20 


drifted  among  them  in  great  numbers,  and  it 
was  this  class  that  caused  the  trouble.  The 
hard-working  "  cow  punchers  "  lived  accord- 
ing to  the  law  of  the  land,  and  they  obeyed 
that  greatest  of  all  laws,  that  of  self-preser- 
vation. Their  fun  was  boisterous,  but  they 
paid  for  all  the  damage  they  inflicted;  their 
work  was  one  continual  hardship,  and  the 
reaction  of  one  extreme  swings  far  toward 
the  limit  of  its  antithesis.  Go  back  to  the 
Apple  if  you  would  trace  the  beginning  of 
self-preservation  and  the  need. 

Buck  Peters  was  a  man  of  mild  appearance, 
somewhat  slow  of  speech  and  correspondingly 
quick  of  action,  who  never  became  flurried. 
His  was  the  master  hand  that  controlled,  and 
his  Colts  enjoyed  the  reputation  of  never  miss- 
ing when  a  hit  could  have  been  expected  with 
reason.  Many  floods,  stampedes  and  bliz- 
zards had  assailed  his  nerves,  but  he  yet  could 
pour  a  glass  of  liquor,  held  at  arm's  length, 
through  a  knothole  in  the  floor  without  wet- 
ting the  wood. 

Next  in  age  came  Lanky  Smith,  a  small, 
undersized  man  of  retiring  disposition.  Then 
52 


THE  VAGRANT   SIOUX 

came  Skinny  Thompson,  six  feet  four  on  his 
bared  soles,  and  true  to  his  name ;  Hopalong 
described  him  as  "  th'  shadow  of  a  chalk 
mark."  Pete  Wilson,  the  slow-witted  and 
very  taciturn,  and  Billy  Williams,  the  waver- 
ing pessimist,  were  of  ordinary  height  and 
appearance.  Red  Connors,  with  hair  that 
shamed  the  name,  was  the  possessor  of  a 
temper  which  was  as  dry  as  tinder;  his  great- 
est weakness  was  his  regard  for  the  rifle  as  a 
means  of  preserving  peace.  Johnny  Nelson 
was  the  protege,  and  he  could  do  no  wrong. 
The  last,  Hopalong  Cassidy,  was  a  combina- 
tion of  irresponsibility,  humor,  good  nature, 
love  of  fighting,  and  nonchalance  when  face 
to  face  with  danger.  His  most  prominent 
attribute  was  that  of  always  getting  into 
trouble  without  any  intention  of  so  doing;  in 
fact,  he  was  much  aggrieved  and  surprised 
when  it  came.  It  seemed  as  though  when  any 
"  bad  man  "  desired  to  add  to  his  reputation 
he  invariably  selected  Hopalong  as  the  means 
(a  fact  due,  perhaps,  to  the  perversity  of 
things  in  general).  Bad  men  became  scarce 
soon  after  Hopalong  became  a  fixture  in  any 
53 


BAR  —  20 


locality.  He  had  been  crippled  some  years 
before  in  a  successful  attempt  to  prevent  the 
assassination  of  a  friend,  Sheriff  Harris,  of 
Albuquerque,  and  he  still  possessed  a  limp. 

When  Red  had  relieved  his  feelings  and 
had  dug  the  alkali  out  of  his  ears  and  eyes, 
he  led  the  Sioux  to  the  rear  of  the  saloon, 
where  a  "  pinto  "  was  busily  engaged  in  en- 
deavoring to  pitch  a  saddle  from  his  back, 
employing  the  intervals  in  trying  to  see  how 
much  of  the  picket  rope  he  could  wrap  around 
his  legs. 

When  By-and-by  saw  what  he  was  expected 
to  ride  he  felt  somewhat  relieved,  for  the  pony 
did  not  appear  to  have  more  than  the  ordinary 
amount  of  cussedness.  He  waved  his  hand, 
and  Johnny  and  Red  bandaged  the  animal's 
eyes,  which  quieted  him  at  once,  and  then  they 
untangled  the  rope  from  around  his  legs  and 
saw  that  the  cinches  were  secure.  Motioning 
to  By-and-by  that  all  was  ready,  they  jerked 
the  bandage  off  as  the  Indian  settled  himself 
in  the  saddle. 

Had  By-and-by  been  really  sober  he  would 
have  taken  the  conceit  out  of  that  pony  in 
54 


THE  VAGRANT   SIOUX 

chunks,  and  as  it  was  he  experienced  no  great 
difficulty  in  holding  his  seat;  but  in  his  addled 
state  of  mind  he  grasped  the  end  of  the  cinch 
strap  in  such  a  way  that  when  the  pony 
jumped  forward  in  its  last  desperate  effort  the 
buckle  slipped  and  the  cinch  became  unfast- 
ened ;  and  By-and-by,  still  seated  in  the  saddle, 
flew  headforemost  into  the  horse  trough, 
where  he  spilled  much  water. 

As  this  happened  Cowan  turned  the  corner, 
and  when  he  saw  the  wasted  water  (which  he 
had  to  carry,  bucketful  at  a  time,  from  the 
wells  a  good  quarter  of  a  mile  away)  his 
anger  blazed  forth,  and  yelling,  he  ran  for 
the  drenched  Sioux,  who  was  just  crawling 
out  of  his  bath.  When  the  unfortunate  saw 
the  irate  man  bearing  down  on  him  he  sput- 
tered in  rage  and  fear,  and,  turning,  he  ran 
down  the  street,  with  Cowan  thundering  flat- 
footedly  behind  on  a  fat  man's  gallop,  to  the 
hysterical  cheers  of  the  delighted  outfit,  who 
saw  in  it  nothing  but  a  good  joke. 

When  Cowan  returned  from  his  hopeless 
task,  blowing  and  wheezing,  he  heard  sundry 
remarks,  sotto  voce,  which  were  not  calculated 
55 


BAR  —  20 


to  increase  his  opinion  of  his  physical  con- 
dition. 

"Seems  to  me,"  remarked  the  irrepressible 
Hopalong,  "  that  one  of  those  cayuses  has  got 
th'  heaves." 

"  It  shore  sounds  like  it,"  acquiesced 
Johnny,  red  in  the  face  from  holding  in  his 
laughter,  "  an'  say,  somebody  interferes." 

"  All  knock-kneed  animals  do,  yu  heathen," 
supplied  Red. 

"  Hey,  yu,  let  up  on  that  an'  have  a  drink 
on  th'  house,"  invited  Cowan.  "  If  I  gits 
that  d — n  warwhoop  I'll  make  yu  think 
there's  been  a  cyclone.  I'll  see  how  long  that 
bum  hangs  around  this  here  burg,  I  will." 

Red's  eyes  narrowed  and  his  temper  got 
the  upper  hand.  "  He  ain't  no  bum  when  yu 
gives  him  rotgut  at  a  quarter  of  a  dollar  a 
glass,  is  he  ?  Any  time  that  *  bum '  gits 
razzled  out  for  nothin'  more'n  this,  why,  I 
goes  too ;  an'  I  ain't  sayin'  nothin'  about  goin' 
peaceable-like,  neither." 

"  I  knowed  somethin'  like  this  'ud  happen," 
dolefully  sang  out  Billy  Williams,  strong  on 
the  side  of  his  pessimism. 

56 


THE   VAGRANT   SIOUX 

"  For  th'  Lord's  sake,  have  yu  broke  out?  " 
asked  Red,  disgustedly.  "  I'm  goin'  to  hit 
the  trail — but  just  keep  this  afore  yore  mind : 
if  By-and-by  gits  in  any  accidents  or  ain't  in 
sight  when  I  comes  to  town  again,  this  here 
climate'll  be  a  d — n  sight  hotter'n  it  is  now. 
No  hard  feelings,  sabe?  It's  just  a  casual  bit 
of  advice.  Come  on,  fellows,  let's  amble — 
I'm  hungry." 

As  they  raced  across  the  plain  toward  the 
ranch  a  pair  of  beady  eyes,  snapping  with  a 
drunken  rage,  watched  them  from  an  arroyo ; 
and  when  Cowan  entered  the  saloon  the  next 
morning  he  could  not  find  By-and-by's  rifle, 
which  he  had  placed  behind  the  bar.  He  also 
missed  a  handful  of  cartridges  from  the  box 
near  the  cash  drawer;  and  had  he  looked 
closely  at  his  bottled  whisky  he  would  have 
noticed  a  loss  there.  A  horse  was  missing 
from  a  Mexican's  corral  and  there  were 
rumors  that  several  Indians  had  been  seen  far 
out  on  the  plain. 


57 


CHAPTER    V 
THE   LAW   OF  THE   RANGE 

"T)HEW!  I'm  shore  hungry,"  said  Hopa- 
Jt      long,   as  he  and  Red  dismounted  at 
the  ranch  the   next  morning  for  breakfast. 
"Wonder  what's  good  for  it?" 

4  They's  three  things  that's  good  for  fam- 
ine," said  Red,  leading  the  way  to  the  bunk 
house.  '  Yu  can  pull  in  yore  belt,  yu  can 
drink,  an'  yu  can  eat.  Yore  getting  as  bad 
as  Johnny — but  he's  young  yet." 

The  others  met  their  entrance  with  a  volley 
of  good-humored  banter,  some  of  which  was 
so  personal  and  evoked  such  responses  that  it 
sounded  like  the  preliminary  skirmish  to  a 
fight.  But  under  all  was  that  soft  accent,  that 
drawl  of  humorous  appreciation  and  eyes 
twinkling  in  suppressed  merriment.  Here 
they  were  thoroughly  at  home  and  the  spirit 
of  comradeship  manifested  itself  in  many 
subtle  ways ;  the  wit  became  more  daring  and 

58 


THE   LAW  OF  THE  RANGE 

sharp,  Billy  lost  some  of  his  pessimism,  and 
the  alertness  disappeared  from  their  manner. 

Skinny  left  off  romping  with  Red  and 
yawned.  "  I  wish  that  cook'ud  wake  up  an1 
git  breakfast.  He's  the  cussedest  Greaser  I 
ever  saw — he  kin  go  to  sleep  standin'  up  an' 
not  know  it.  Johnny's  th'  boy  that  worries 
him — th'  kid  comes  in  an'  whoops  things  up 
till  he's  gorged  himself." 

"  Johnny's  got  th'  most  appallin'  feel  for 
grub  of  anybody  I  knows,"  added  Red.  "  I 
wonder  what's  keepin'  him — he's  usually 
hangin'  around  -here  bawlin'  for  his  grub  like 
a  spoiled  calf,  long  afore  cookie's  got  th'  fire 
goin'." 

"  Mebby  he  rustled  some  grub  out  with 
him — I  saw  him  tiptoein'  out  of  th'  gallery 
this  mornin'  when  I  come  back  for  my  cigs," 
remarked  Hopalong,  glancing  at  Billy. 

Billy  groaned  and  made  for  the  gallery. 
Emerging  half  a  minute  later  he  blurted  out 
his  tale  of  woe :  "  Every  time  I  blows  myself 
an'  don't  drink  it  all  in  town  some  slab-sided 
maverick  freezes  to  it.  It's  gone,"  he  added, 
dismally. 

59 


BAR  —  20 


4  Too  bad,  Billy— but  what  is  it?  "  asked 
Skinny. 

"  What  is  it?  Wha'd  yu  think  it  was,  yu 
emaciated  match?  Jewelry?  Cayuses?  It's 
whisky — two  simoleons'  worth.  Somethin's 
allus  wrong.  This  here  whole  yearth's  wrong, 
just  like  that  cross-eyed  sky  pilot  said  over 

.  _M 

"  Will  yu  let  up  ?  "  yelled  Red,  throwing 
a  sombrero  at  the  grumbling  unfortunate. 
"  Yu  ask  Buck  where  yore  tanglefoot  is." 

"  I'd  shore  look  nice  askin'  th'  boss  if  he'd 
rustled  my  whisky,  wouldn't  I?  An'  would  yu 
mind  throwin'  somebody  else's  hat?  I  paid 
twenty  wheels  for  that  eight  years  ago,  and 
I  don't  want  it  mussed  none." 

u  Gee,  yore  easy !  Why,  Ah  Sing,  over  at 
Albuquerque,  gives  them  away  every  time  yu 
gits  yore  shirt  washed,"  gravely  interposed 
Hopalong  as  he  went  out  to  cuss  the  cook. 

"Well,  what'd  yu  think  of  that?"  ex- 
claimed Billy  in  an  injured  tone. 

"  Oh,  yu  needn't  be  hikin'  for  Albuquerque 
— Washee-Washee'ud  charge  yu  double  for 
washin'  yore  shirt.  Yu  ought  to  fall  in  th' 
60 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  RANGE 

river  some  day — then  he  might  talk  business/' 
called  Hopalong  over  his  shoulder  as  he 
heaved  an  old  boot  into  the  gallery.  "  Hey, 
yu  hibernatin'  son  of  morphine,  if  yu  don't 
git  them  flapjacks  in  here  pretty  sudden-like 
I'll  scatter  yu  all  over  th'  landscape,  sabe? 
Yu  just  wait  till  Johnny  comes!  " 

"  Wonder  where  th'  kid  is?  "  asked  Lanky, 
rolling  a  cigarette. 

"  Off  somewhere  lookin'  at  th'  sun  through 
th'  bottom  of  my  bottle,"  grumbled  Billy. 

Hopalong  started  to  go  out,  but  halted  on 
the  sill  and  looked  steadily  off  toward  the 
northwest.  "  That's  funny.  Hey,  fellows, 
here  comes  Buck  an'  Johnny  ridin'  double — 
on  a  walk,  too !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Wonder 
what  th' — thunder !  Red,  Buck's  carryin'  him ! 
Somethin's  busted!  "  he  yelled,  as  he  dashed 
for  his  pony  and  made  for  the  newcomers. 

"  I  told  yu  he  was  hittin'  my  bottle,"  pertly 
remarked  Billy,  as  he  followed  the  rest  out- 
side. 

"  Did  yu  ever  see  Johnny  drunk?  Did  yu 
ever  see  him  drink  more'n  two  glasses  ?  Shut 
yore  wailin'  face — they's  somethin'  worse'n 
61 


BAR  — 20 


that  in  this  here,"  said  Red,  his  temper  rising. 
"  Hopalong  an'  me  took  yore  cheap  liquor — 
it's  under  Pete's  bunk,"  he  added. 

The  trio  approached  on  a  walk  and  Johnny, 
delirious  and  covered  with  blood,  was  carried 
into  the  bunk  house.  Buck  waited  until  all 
had  assembled  again  and  then,  his  face  dark 
with  anger,  spoke  sharply  and  without  the 
usual  drawl:  "  Skragged  from  behind,  d — n 
them !  Get  some  grub  an'  water  an'  be  quick. 
We'll  see  who  the  gent  with  th'  grudge  is." 

At  this  point  the  expostulations  of  the  in- 
dignant cook,  who,  not  understanding  the 
cause,  regarded  the  invasion  of  china  shop 
bulls  as  sacrilegious,  came  to  his  ears.  Strid- 
ing quickly  to  the  door,  he  grabbed  the  pan 
the  Mexican  was  about  to  throw  and,  turning 
the  now  frightened  man  around,  thundered, 
"  Keep  quiet  an'  get  'em  some  grub." 

When  rifles  and  ammunition  had  been  se- 
cured they  mounted  and  followed  him  at  a 
hard  gallop  along  the  back  trail.  No  words 
were  spoken,  for  none  were  necessary.  All 
knew  that  they  would  not  return  until  they 
had  found  the  man  for  whom  they  were  look- 
62 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  RANGE 

ing,  even  if  the  chase  led  to  Canada.  They 
did  not  ask  Buck  for  any  of  the  particulars, 
for  the  foreman  was  not  in  the  humor  to  talk, 
and  all,  save  Hopalong,  whose  curiosity  was 
always  on  edge,  recognized  only  two  facts 
and  cared  for  nothing  else :  Johnny  had  been 
ambushed  and  they  were  going  to  get  the  one 
who  was  responsible.  They  did  not  even  con- 
jecture as  to  who  it  might  be,  because  the  trail 
would  lead  them  to  the  man  himself,  and  it 
mattered  nothing  who  or  what  he  was — there 
was  only  one  course  to  take  with  an  assassin. 
So  they  said  nothing,  but  rode  on  with  squared 
jaws  and  set  lips,  the  seven  ponies  breast  to 
breast  in  a  close  arc. 

Soon  they  came  to  an  arroyo  which  they 
took  at  a  leap.  As  they  approached  it  they 
saw  signs  in  the  dust  which  told  them  that  a 
body  had  lain  there  huddled  up;  and  there 
were  brown  spots  on  the  baked  alkali.  The 
trail  they  followed  was  now  single,  Buck  hav- 
ing ridden  along  the  bank  of  the  arroyo  when 
hunting  for  Johnny,  for  whom  he  had  orders. 
This  trail  was  very  irregular,  as  if  the  horse 
had  wandered  at  will.  Suddenly  they  came 

63 


BAR  —  20 


upon  five  tracks,  all  pointing  one  way,  and 
four  of  these  turned  abruptly  and  disappeared 
in  the  northwest.  Half  a  mile  beyond  the 
point  of  separation  was  a  chaparral,  which 
was  an  important  factor  to  them. 

Each  man  knew  just  what  had  taken  place 
as  if  he  had  been  an  eyewitness,  for  the  trail 
was  plain.  The  assassins  had  waited  in  the 
chaparral  for  Johnny  to  pass,  probably  hav- 
ing seen  him  riding  that  way.  When  he  had 
passed  and  his  back  had  been  turned  to  them 
they  had  fired  and  wounded  him  severely  at 
the  first  volley,  for  Johnny  was  of  the  stuff 
that  fights  back  and  his  revolvers  had  showed 
full  chambers  and  clean  barrels  when  Red  had 
examined  them  in  the  bunk  house.  Then 
they  had  given  chase  for  a  short  distance  and, 
from  some  inexplicable  motive,  probably  fear, 
they  had  turned  and  ridden  off  without  know- 
ing how  bad  he  was  hit.  It  was  this  trail  that 
led  to  the  northwest,  and  it  was  this  trail  that 
they  followed  without  pausing. 

When  they  had  covered  fifty  miles  they 
sighted  the  Cross  Bar  O  ranch,  where  they 
hoped  to  secure  fresh  mounts.  As  they  rode 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  RANGE 

up  to  the  ranch  house  the  owner,  Bud  Wal- 
lace, came  around  the  corner  and  saw  them. 

"  Hullo,  boys !  What  deviltry  are  yu  up 
to  now?  "  he  asked. 

Buck  leaped  from  his  mount,  followed  by 
the  others,  and  shoved  his  sombrero  back  on 
his  head  as  he  started  to  remove  the  saddle. 

"  We're  trailin'  a  bunch  of  murderers. 
They  ambushed  Johnny  an5  d — n  near  killed 
him.  I  stopped  here  to  get  fresh  cayuses." 

"  Yu  did  right!  "  replied  Wallace  heartily. 
Then  raising  his  voice  he  shouted  to  some  of 
his  men  who  were  near  the  corral  to  bring  up 
the  seven  best  horses  they  could  rope.  Then 
he  told  the  cook  to  bring  out  plenty  of  food 
and  drink. 

"  I  got  four  punchers  what  ain't  doin' 
nothin'  but  eat,"  he  suggested. 

"  Much  obliged,  Wallace,  but  there's  only 
four  of  'em,  an'  we'd  rather  get  'em  ourselves 
—  Johnny'ud  feel  better,"  replied  Buck, 
throwing  his  saddle  on  the  horse  that  was  led 
up  to  him. 

"  How's  yore  cartridges — got  plenty?" 
persisted  Wallace. 

65 


BAR  —  20 


"  Two  hundred  apiece,"  responded  Buck, 
springing  into  his  saddle  and  riding  off.  "  So 
long,"  he  called. 

"  So  long,  an'  plug  h — 1  out  of  them," 
shouted  Wallace  as  the  dust  swept  over  him. 

At  five  in  the  afternoon  they  forded  the 
Black  River  at  a  point  where  it  crossed  the 
state  line  from  New  Mexico,  and  at  dusk 
camped  at  the  base  of  the  Guadalupe  Moun- 
tains. At  daybreak  they  took  up  the  chase, 
grim  and  merciless,  and  shortly  afterward 
they  passed  the  smoldering  remains  of  a 
camp  fire,  showing  that  the  pursued  had  been 
in  a  great  hurry,  for  it  should  have  been  put 
out  and  masked.  At  noon  they  left  the  moun- 
tains to  the  rear  and  sighted  the  Barred 
Horseshoe,  which  they  approached. 

The  owner  of  the  ranch  saw  them  coming, 
and  from  their  appearance  surmised  that 
something  was  wrong. 

"  What  is  it?  "  he  shouted.    "  Rustlers?  " 

"  Nope.  Murderers.  I  wants  to  swap 
cayuses  quick,"  answered  Buck. 

"  There  they  are.     Th'  boys  just  brought 
'em  in.    Anything  else  I  can  let  yu  have?  " 
66 


THE   LAW  OF  THE  RANGE 

u  Nope,"  shouted  Buck  as  they  galloped 
off. 

"  Somebody's  goin'  to  get  plugged  full  of 
holes,"  murmured  the  ranch  owner  as  he 
watched  them  kicking  up  the  dust  in  huge 
clouds. 

After  they  had  forded  a  tributary  of  the 
Rio  Penasco  near  the  Sacramento  Mountains 
and  had  surmounted  the  opposite  bank,  Hopa- 
long  spurred  his  horse  to  the  top  of  a  hum- 
mock and  swept  the  plain  with  Pete's  field 
glasses,  which  he  had  borrowed  for  the  occa- 
sion, and  returned  to  the  rest,  who  had  kept  on 
without  slacking  the  pace.  As  he  took  up  his 
former  position  he  grunted,  "  War-whoops," 
and  unslung  his  rifle,  an  example  followed  by 
the  others.  The  ponies  were  now  running  at 
top  speed,  and  as  they  shot  over  a  rise  their 
riders  saw  their  quarry  a  mile  and  a  half  in 
advance.  One  of  the  Indians  looked  back  and 
discharged  his  rifle  in  defiance,  and  it  now 
became  a  race  worthy  of  the  name — Death 
fled  from  Death.  The  fresher  mounts  of  the 
cowboys  steadily  cut  down  the  distance  and, 
as  the  rifles  of  the  pursuers  began  to  speak, 


BAR  —  20 


the  hard-pressed  Indians  made  for  the  smaller 
of  two  knolls,  the  plain  leading  to  the  larger 
one  being  too  heavily  strewn  with  bowlders 
to  permit  speed. 

As  the  fugitives  settled  down  behind  the 
rocks  which  fringed  the  edge  of  their  eleva- 
tion a  shot  from  one  of  them  disabled  Billy's 
arm,  but  had  no  other  effect  than  to  increase 
the  score  to  be  settled.  The  pursuers  rode 
behind  a  rise  and  dismounted,  from  where, 
leaving  their  mounts  protected,  they  scattered 
out  to  surround  the  knoll. 

Hopalong,  true  to  his  curiosity,  finally 
turned  up  on  the  highest  point  of  the  other 
knoll,  a  spur  of  the  range  in  the  west,  for  he 
always  wanted  to  see  all  he  could.  Skinny, 
due  to  his  fighting  instinct,  settled  one  hun- 
dred yards  to  the  north  and  on  the  same  spur. 
Buck  lay  hidden  behind  an  enormous  bowlder 
eight  hundred  yards  to  the  northeast  of 
Skinny,  and  the  same  distance  southeast  of 
Buck  was  Red  Connors,  who  was  crawling  up 
the  bed  of  an  arroyo.  Billy,  nursing  his  arm, 
lay  in  front  of  the  horses,  and  Pete,  from  his 
position  between  Billy  and  Hopalong,  was 
68 


THE   LAW  OF  THE  RANGE 

crawling  from  rock  to  rock  in  an  endeavor  to 
get  near  enough  to  use  his  Colts,  his  favorite 
and  most  effective  weapons.  Intermittent 
puffs  of  smoke  arising  from  a  point  between 
Skinny  and  Buck  showed  where  Lanky  Smith 
was  improving  each  shining  hour. 

There  had  been  no  directions  given,  each 
man  choosing  his  own  position,  yet  each  was 
of  strategic  worth.  Billy  protected  the  horses, 
Hopalong  and  Skinny  swept  the  knoll  with  a 
plunging  fire,  and  Lanky  and  Buck  lay  in  the 
course  the  besieged  would  most  likely  take  if 
they  tried  a  dash.  Off  to  the  east  Red  barred 
them  from  creeping  down  the  arroyo,  and 
from  where  Pete  was  he  could  creep  up  to 
within  sixty  yards  if  he  chose  the  right  rocks. 
The  ranges  varied  from  four  hundred  yards 
for  Buck  to  sixty  for  Pete,  and  the  others 
averaged  close  to  three  hundred,  which  al- 
lowed very  good  shooting  on  both  sides. 

Hopalong  and  Skinny  gradually  moved 
nearer  to  each  other  for  companionship,  and 
as  the  former  raised  his  head  to  see  what 
the  others  were  doing  he  received  a  graze  on 
the  ear. 


BAR  — 20 


"  Wow  I  "  he  yelled,  rubbing  the  tingling 
member. 

Two  puffs  of  smoke  floated  up  from  the 
knoll,  and  Skinny  swore. 

"  Where'd  he  get  yu,  Fat?  "  asked  Hopa- 
long. 

"  G'wan,  don't  get  funny,  son,"  replied 
Skinny. 

Jets  of  smoke  arose  from  the  north  and 
east,  where  Buck  and  Red  were  stationed, 
and  Pete  was  half  way  to  the  knoll.  So  far 
he  hadn't  been  hit  as  he  dodged  in  and  out, 
and,  emboldened  by  his  luck,  he  made  a  run 
of  five  yards  and  his  sombrero  was  shot  from 
his  head.  Another  dash  and  his  empty  holster 
was  ripped  from  its  support.  As  he  crouched 
behind  a  rock  he  heard  a  yell  from  Hopalong, 
and  saw  that  interested  individual  waving  his 
sombrero  to  cheer  him  on.  An  angry  pang! 
from  the  knoll  caused  that  enthusiastic  rooter 
to  drop  for  safety. 

"  Locoed  son-of-a-gun,"  complained  Pete. 
"  He'll  shore  git  potted."  Then  he  glanced 
at  Billy,  who  was  the  center  of  several  succes- 
sive spurts  of  dust. 

70 


THE   LAW  OF  THE  RANGE 

"  How's  business,  Billy?  "  he  called  pleas- 
antly. 

"  Oh,  they'll  git  me  yet,"  responded  the 
pessimist.  "  Yu  needn't  git  anxious.  If  that 
off  buck  wasn't  so  green  he'd  'a'  had  me  long 
ago." 

"  Ya-Aoo/  Pete!  Oh,  Pete!  "  called  Hop- 
along,  sticking  his  head  out  at  one  side  and 
grinning  as  the  wondering  object  of  his  hail 
craned  his  neck  to  see  what  the  matter  was. 

"  Huh  ?  "  grunted  Pete,  and  then  remem- 
bering the  distance  he  shouted,  "  What's  th' 
matter?" 

"Got  any  cigarettes?"  asked  Hopalong. 

"  Yu  d — n  sheep !  "  said  Pete,  and  turning 
back  to  work  he  drove  a  .44  into  a  yellow 
moccasin. 

Hopalong  began  to  itch  and  he  saw  that 
he  was  near  an  ant  hill.  Then  the  cactus  at 
his  right  boomed  out  mournfully  and  a  hole 
appeared  in  it.  He  fired  at  the  smoke  and  a 
yell  informed  him  that  he  had  made  a  hit. 
"Go  'way!"  he  complained  as  a  green  fly 
buzzed  past  his  nose.  Then  he  scratched  each 
leg  with  the  foot  of  the  other  and  squirmed 


BAR  —  20 


incessantly,  kicking  out  with  both  feet  at  once. 
A  warning  metallic  whir-r-r!  on  his  left  caused 
him  to  yank  them  in  again,  and  turning  his 
head  quickly  he  had  the  pleasure  of  lopping 
off  the  head  of  a  rattlesnake  with  his  Colt's. 

"  Glad  yu  wasn't  a  copperhead,"  he  ex- 
claimed. "  Somebody  had  ought  'a'  shot  that 
fool  Noah.  D — n  the  ants!  "  He  drowned 
with  a  jet  of  tobacco  juice  a  Gila  monster  that 
was  staring  at  him  and  took  a  savage  delight 
in  its  frantic  efforts  to  bury  itself. 

Soon  he  heard  Skinny  swear  and  he  sung 
out:  "What's  the  matter,  Skinny?  Git 
plugged  again?  " 

"Naw,  bugs — ain't  they  h — 1?"  plaint- 
ively asked  his  friend. 

1  They  ain't  none  over  here.  What  kind 
of  bugs?" 

"  Sufferin'  Moses,  I  ain't  no  bugologist! 
All  kinds !  " 

But   Hopalong   got   it   at  last.      He   had 

found  tobacco  and  rolled  a  cigarette,  and  in 

reaching  for  a  match  exposed  his  shoulder 

to  a  shot  that  broke  his  collar  bone.     Skinny's 

72 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  RANGE 

rifle  cracked  in  reply  and  the  offending  brave 
rolled  out  from  behind  a  rock.  From  the  fuss 
emanating  from  Hopalong's  direction  Skinny 
knew  that  his  neighbor  had  been  hit. 

"  Don't  yu  care,  Hoppy.  I  got  th'  cuss," 
he  said  consolingly.  "  Where'd  he  git  yu?  " 
he  asked. 

"  In  th'  heart,  yu  pie-faced  nuisance.  Come 
over  here  an'  corral  this  cussed  bandage  an' 
gimme  some  water,"  snapped  the  injured  man. 

Skinny  wormed  his  way  through  the  thorny 
chaparral  and  bound  up  the  shoulder.  "  Any- 
thing else?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes.  Shoot  that  bunch  of  warts  an'  blow 
that  tobacco-eyed  Gila  to  Cheyenne.  This 
here's  worse  than  the  time  we  cleaned  out  th' 
C  80  outfit !  "  Then  he  kicked  the  dead  toad 
and  swore  at  the  sun. 

"  Close  yore  yap;  yore  worse  than  a  kid! 
Anybody'd  thing  yu  never  got  plugged  afore," 
said  Skinny  indignantly. 

"  I  can  cuss  all  I  wants,"  replied  Hopalong, 
proving  his  assertion  as  he  grabbed  his  gun 
and  fired  at  the  dead  Indian.  A  bullet  whined 
73 


BAR  —  20 


above  his  head  and  Skinny  fired  at  the  smoke. 
He  peeped  out  and  saw  that  his  friends  were 
getting  nearer  to  the  knoll. 

"  They's  closin'  in  now.  We'll  soon  be 
gittin'  home,"  he  reported. 

Hopalong  looked  out  in  time  to  see  Buck 
make  a  dash  for  a  bowlder  that  lay  ten  yards 
in  front  of  him,  which  he  reached  in  safety. 
Lanky  also  ran  in  and  Pete  added  five  more 
yards  to  his  advance.  Buck  made  another 
dash,  but  leaped  into  the  air,  and,  coming 
down  as  if  from  an  intentional  high  jump, 
staggered  and  stumbled  for  a  few  paces  and 
then  fell  flat,  rolling  over  and  over  toward 
the  shelter  of  a  split  rock,  where  he  lay  quiet. 
A  leering  red  face  peered  over  the  rocks  on 
the  knoll,  but  the  whoop  of  exultation  -was  cut 
short,  for  Red's  rifle  cracked  and  the  warrior 
rolled  down  the  steep  bank,  where  another 
shot  from  the  same  gun  settled  him  beyond 
question. 

Hopalong  choked  and,   turning   his   face 

away,   angrily  dashed  his  knuckles  into   his 

eyes.    "  D — n  'em !  D — n  'em !    They've  got 

Buck !  They've  got  Buck,  d — n  'em !  They've 

74 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  RANGE 

got  Buck,  Skinny !  Good  old  Buck !  They've 
got  him!  Jimmy's  gone,  Johnny's  plugged, 
and  now  Buck's  gone !  Come  on !  "  he  sobbed 
in  a  frenzy  of  vengeance.  "  Come  on, 
Skinny !  We'll  tear  their  cussed  hides  into  a 
deeper  red  than  they  are  now !  Oh,  d — n  it, 
I  can't  see — where's  my  gun?"  He  groped 
for  the  rifle  and  fought  Skinny  when  the  lat- 
ter, red-eyed  but  cool,  endeavored  to  restrain 
him.  "  Lemme  go,  curse  yu  !  Don't  yu  know 
they  got  Buck?  Lemme  go!  " 

"Down!  Red's  got  th'  skunk.  Yu  can't 
do  nothin' — they'd  drop  yu  afore  yu  took  five 
steps.  Red's  got  him,  I  tell  yu !  Do  yu  want 
me  to  lick  yu?  We'll  pay  'em  with  th'  coals 
of  h — 1  if  yu'll  keep  yore  head!  "  exclaimed 
Skinny,  throwing  the  crazed  man  heavily. 

Musical  tones,  rising  and  falling  in  weird 
octaves,  whining  pityingly,  diabolically,  sob- 
bing in  a  fascinating  monotone  and  slobbering 
in  ragged  chords,  calling  as  they  swept  over 
the  plain,  always  calling  and  exhorting,  they 
mingled  in  barbaric  discord  with  the  defiant 
barks  of  the  six-shooters  and  the  inquiring 
cracks  of  the  Winchesters.  High  up  in  the 
75 


BAR  — 20 


air  several  specks  sailed  and  drifted,  more 
coming  up  rapidly  from  all  directions.  Buz- 
zards know  well  where  food  can  be  found. 

As  Hopalong  leaned  back  against  a  rock 
he  was  hit  in  the  thigh  by  a  ricochet  that  tore 
its  way  out,  whirling  like  a  circular  saw,  a 
span  above  where  it  entered.  The  wound  was 
very  nasty,  being  ripped  twice  the  size  made 
by  an  ordinary  shot,  and  it  bled  profusely. 
Skinny  crawled  over  and  attended  to  it,  mak- 
ing a  tourniquet  of  his  neckerchief  and 
clumsily  bandaging  it  with  a  strip  torn  from 
his  shirt. 

"  Yore  shore  lucky,  yu  are,"  he  grumbled 
as  he  made  his  way  back  to  his  post,  where  he 
vented  his  rancor  by  emptying  the  semi- 
depleted  magazine  of  his  Winchester  at  the 
knoll. 

Hopalong  began  to  sing  and  shout  and  he 
talked  of  Jimmy  and  his  childhood,  interspers- 
ing the  broken  narrative  with  choice  selections 
as  sung  in  the  music  halls  of  Leavenworth  and 
Abilene.  He  wound  up  by  yelling  and  strug- 
gling, and  Skinny  had  his  hands  full  in  hold- 
ing him. 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  RANGE 

"  Hopalong !  Cassidy !  Come  out  of  that ! 
Keep  quiet — yu'll  shore  git  plugged  if  yu 
don't  stop  that  plungin'.  For  God's  sake, 
did  yu  hear  that?  "  A  bullet  viciously  hissed 
between  them  and  flattened  out  on  a  near-by 
rock;  others  cut  their  way  through  the  cha- 
parral to  the  sound  of  falling  twigs,  and 
Skinny  threw  himself  on  the  struggling  man 
and  strapped  Hopalong  with  his  belt  to  the 
base  of  a  honey  mesquite  that  grew  at  his  side. 

"  Hold  still,  now,  and  let  that  bandage 
alone.  Yu  allus  goes  off  th'  range  when  yu 
gets  plugged,"  he  complained.  He  cut  down 
a  cactus  and  poured  the  sap  over  the  wounded 
man's  face,  causing  him  to  gurgle  and  look 
around.  His  eyes  had  a  sane  look  now  and 
Skinny  slid  off  his  chest. 

"Git  that — belt  loose;  I  ain't — no  cow," 
brokenly  blazed  out  the  picketed  Hopalong. 
Skinny  did  so,  handed  the  irate  man  his  Colts 
and  returned  to  his  own  post,  from  where  he 
fired  twice,  reporting  the  shots. 

"I'm  try  in'  to  get  him  on  th'  glance — th' 
first  one  went  high  an'  th'  other  fell  flat,"  he 
explained. 

77 


BAR  —  20 


Hopalong  listened  eagerly,  for  this  was 
shooting  that  he  could  appreciate.  "  Lemme 
see,"  he  commanded.  Skinny  dragged  him 
over  to  a  crack  and  settled  down  for  another 
try. 

"  Where  is  he,  Skinny?  "  asked  Hopalong. 

"  Behind  that  second  big  one.  No,  over 
on  this  here  side.  See  that  smooth  granite? 
If  I  can  get  her  there  on  th'  right  spot  he'll 
shore  know  it."  He  aimed  carefully  and 
fired. 

Through  Pete's  glasses  Hopalong  saw  a 
leaden  splotch  appear  on  the  rock  and  he 
notified  the  marksman  that  he  was  shooting 
high.  "  Put  her  on  that  bump  closer  down," 
he  suggested.  Skinny  did  so  and  another  yell 
reached  their  ears. 

'  That's  a  dandy.  Yore  shore  all  right, 
yu  old  cuss,"  complimented  Hopalong,  elated 
at  the  success  of  the  experiment. 

Skinny  fired  again  and  a  brown  arm  flopped 
out  into  sight.  Another  shot  struck  it  and  it 
jerked  as  though  it  were  lifeless. 

"  He's  cashed.  See  how  she  jumped  ?  Like 
7« 


"  Skinny  dragged  him  over  to  a  crack  and  settled  down 
for   another   try  " 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  RANGE 

a  rope,"  remarked  Skinny  with  a  grin.  The 
arm  lay  quiet. 

Pete  had  gained  his  last  cover  and  was  all 
eyes  and  Colts.  Lanky  was  also  very  close 
in  and  was  intently  watching  one  particular 
rock.  Several  shots  echoed  from  the  far  side 
of  the  knoll  and  they  knew  that  Red  was  all 
right.  Billy  was  covering  a  cluster  of  rocks 
that  protruded  above  the  others  and,  as  they 
looked,  his  rifle  rang  out  and  the  last  defender 
leaped  down  and  disappeared  in  the  chaparral. 
He  wore  yellow  trousers  and  an  old  boiled 
shirt. 

"By-an'-by,  by  all  that's  bad!"  yelled 
Hopalong.  '  Th'  measly  coyote !  An'  me 
a-fillin'  his  ornery  hide  with  liquor.  Well, 
they'll  have  to  find  him  all  over  again  now," 
he  complained,  astounded  by  the  revelation. 
He  fired  into  the  chaparral  to  express  his 
pugnacious  disgust  and  scared  out  a  huge 
tarantula,  which  alighted  on  Skinny's  chaps, 
crawling  rapidly  toward  the  unconscious  man's 
neck.  Hopalong's  face  hardened  and  he 
slowly  covered  the  insect  and  fired,  driving 
79 


BAR  —  20 


it  into  the  sand,  torn  and  lifeless.  The  bullet 
touched  the  leathern  garment  and  Skinny 
remonstrated,  knowing  that  Hopalong  was 
in  no  condition  for  fancy  shooting. 

"Huh!"  exclaimed  Hopalong.  "  That 
was  a  tarantula  what  I  plugged.  He  was 
headin'  for  yore  neck,"  he  explained,  watch- 
ing the  chaparral  with  apprehension. 

"  Go  'way,  was  it?  Bully  for  yu!"  ex- 
claimed Skinny,  tarantulas  being  placed  at  par 
with  rattlesnakes,  and  he  considered  that 
he  had  been  saved  from  a  horrible  death. 
"  Thought  yu  said  they  wasn't  no  bugs  over 
here,"  he  added  in  an  aggrieved  tone. 

"  They  wasn't  none.  Yu  brought  'em.  I 
only  had  th'  main  show — Gilas,  rattlers  an' 
toads,"  he  replied,  and  then  added,  "  Ain't  it 
cussed  hot  up  here?  " 

"  She  is.  Yu  won't  have  no  cinch  ridin' 
home  with  that  leg.  Yu  better  take  my  cay- 
use — he's  busted  more'n  yourn,"  responded 
Skinny. 

"  Yore  cayuse  is  at  th'  Cross  Bar  O,  yu 
wall-eyed  pirute." 

"  Shore  'miff.  Funny  how  a  feller  forgets 
80 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  RANGE 

sometimes.  Lemme  alone  now,  they's  goin' 
to  git  By-an'-by.  Pete  an'  Lanky  has  just 
went  in  after  him." 

That  was  what  had  occurred.  The  two 
impatient  punchers  had  grown  tired  of  wait- 
ing, and  risked  what  might  easily  have  been 
death  in  order  to  hasten  matters.  The  others 
kept  up  a  rapid  fire,  directed  at  the  far  end  of 
the  chaparral  on  the  knoll,  in  order  to  mask 
the  movements  of  their  venturesome  friends, 
intending  also  to  drive  By-and-by  toward  them 
so  that  he  would  be  the  one  to  get  picked  off 
as  he  advanced. 

Several  shots  rang  out  in  quick  succession 
on  the  knoll  and  the  chaparral  became  agi- 
tated. Several  more  shots  sounded  from  the 
depth  of  the  thicket  and  a  mounted  Indian 
dashed  out  of  the  northern  edge  and  headed 
in  Buck's  direction.  His  course  would  take 
him  close  to  Buck,  whom  he  had  seen  fall, 
and  would  let  him  escape  at  a  point  midway 
between  Red  and  Skinny,  as  Lanky  was  on 
the  knoll  and  the  range  was  very  far  to  allow 
effective  shooting  by  these  two. 

Red  saw  him  leave  the  chaparral  and  in 
81 


BAR  —  20 


his  haste  to  reload  jammed  the  cartridge,  and 
By-and-by  swept  on  toward  temporary  safety, 
with  Red  dancing  in  a  paroxysm  of  rage, 
swelling  his  vocabulary  with  words  he  had 
forgotten  existed. 

By-and-by,  rising  to  his  full  height  in  the 
saddle,  turned  and  wiggled  his  fingers  at  the 
frenzied  Red  and  made  several  other  signs, 
that  the  cowboy  was  in  the  humor  to  appre- 
ciate to  the  fullest  extent.  Then  he  turned 
and  shook  his  rifle  at  the  marksmen  on  the 
larger  knoll,  whose  best  shots  kicked  up  the 
dust  fully  fifty  yards  too  short.  The  pony 
was  sweeping  toward  the  reservation  and 
friends  only  fifteen  miles  away,  and  By-and-by 
knew  that  once  among  the  mountains  he  would 
be  on  equal  footing  at  least  with  his  enemies. 
As  he  passed  the  rock  behind  which  Buck  lay 
sprawled  on  his  face  he  uttered  a  piercing 
whoop  of  triumph  and  leaned  forward  on  his 
pony's  neck.  Twenty  leaps  farther  and  the 
spiteful  crack  of  an  unerring  rifle  echoed  from 
where  the  foreman  was  painfully  supporting 
himself  on  his  elbows.  The  pony  swept  on 
in  a  spurt  of  nerve-racking  speed,  but  alone. 
82 


THE  LAW  OF  THE  RANGE 

By-and-by  shrieked  again  and  crashed  heavily 
to  the  ground,  where  he  rolled  inertly  and 
then  lay  still.  Men  like  Buck  are  dangerous 
until  their  hearts  have  ceased  to  beat. 


CHAPTER   VI 

TRIALS  OF   THE   CONVALESCENT 

THE  days  at  the  ranch  passed  in  irritating 
idleness  for  those  who  had  obstructed 
the  flight  of  hostile  lead,  and  worse  than  any 
of  the  patients  was  Hopalong,  who  fretted 
and  fumed  at  his  helplessness,  which  retarded 
his  recovery.  But  at  last  the  day  came  when 
he  was  fit  for  the  saddle  again,  and  he  gave 
notice  of  his  joy  in  whoops  and  forthwith 
announced  that  he  was  entitled  to  a  holiday; 
and  Buck  had  not  the  heart  to  refuse  him. 
So  he  started  forth  in  his  quest  of  peace  and 
pleasure,  but  instead  had  found  only  trouble 
and  had  been  forced  to  leave  his  card  at 
almost  every  place  he  had  visited. 

There  was  that  affair  in  Red  Hot  Gulch, 
Colorado,  where,  under  pressure,  he  had  in- 
vested sundry  pieces  of  lead  in  the  persons  of 
several  obstreperous  citizens   and  then  had 
84 


TRIALS  OF  A  CONVALESCENT 

paced  the  zealous  and  excitable  sheriff  to  the 
state  line. 

He  next  was  noticed  in  Cheyenne,  where 
his  deformity  was  vividly  dwelt  upon,  to  the 
extent  of  six  words,  by  one  Tarantula  Char- 
ley, the  aforesaid  Charley  not  being  able  to 
proceed  to  greater  length  on  account  of  heart 
failure.  As  Charley  had  been  a  ubiquitous 
nuisance,  those  present  availed  themselves  of 
the  opportunity  offered  by  Hopalong  to  in- 
dulge in  a  free  drink. 

Laramie  was  his  next  stopping  place,  and 
shortly  after  his  arrival  he  was  requested  to 
sing  and  dance  by  a  local  terror,  who  informed 
all  present  that  he  was  the  only  seventeen- 
buttoned  rattlesnake  in  the  cow  country. 
Hopalong,  hurt  and  indignant  at  being 
treated  like  a  common  tenderfoot,  promptly 
knocked  the  terror  down.  After  he  had  irri- 
gated several  square  feet  of  parched  throats 
belonging  to  the  audience  he  again  took  up 
his  journey  and  spent  a  day  at  Denver,  where 
he  managed  to  avoid  any  further  trouble. 

Santa  Fe  loomed  up  before  him  several 
days  later  and  he  entered  it  shortly  before 

85 


BAR  —  20 


noon.  At  this  time  the  old  Spanish  city  was 
a  bundle  of  high-strung  nerves,  and  certain 
parts  of  it  were  calculated  to  furnish  any  and 
all  kinds  of  excitement  except  revival  meet- 
ings and  church  fairs.  Hopalong  straddled 
a  lively  nerve  before  he  had  been  in  the  city 
an  hour.  Two  local  bad  men,  Slim  Travennes 
and  Tex  Ewalt,  desiring  to  establish  the  fact 
that  they  were  roaring  prairie  fires,  attempted 
to  consume  the  placid  and  innocent  stranger 
as  he  limped  across  the  plaza  in  search  of  a 
game  of  draw  poker  at  the  Black  Hills  Em- 
porium, with  the  result  that  they  needed  re- 
pairs, to  the  chagrin  and  disgust  of  their 
immediate  acquaintances,  who  endeavored  to 
drown  their  mortification  and  sorrow  in  rapid 
but  somewhat  wild  gun  play,  and  soon  remem- 
bered that  they  had  pressing  engagements 
elsewhere. 

Hopalong  reloaded  his  guns  and  proceeded 
to  the  Emporium,  where  he  found  a  game  all 
prepared  for  him  in  every  sense  of  the  word. 
On  the  third  deal  he  objected  to  the  way  in 
which  the  dealer  manipulated  the  cards,  and 
when  the  smoke  cleared  away  he  was  the  only 
86 


TRIALS  OF  A  CONVALESCENT 

occupant  of  the  room,  except  a  dog  belonging 
to  the  bartender  that  had  intercepted  a  stray 
bullet. 

Hunting  up  the  owner  of  the  hound,  he 
apologized  for  being  the  indirect  cause  of  the 
animal's  death,  deposited  a  sum  of  Mexican 
dollars  in  that  gentleman's  palm  and  went  on 
his  way  to  Alameda,  which  he  entered  shortly 
after  dark,  and  where  an  insult,  simmering 
in  its  uncalled-for  venom,  met  him  as  he 
limped  across  the  floor  of  the  local  dispensary 
on  his  way  to  the  bar.  There  was  no  time 
for  verbal  argument  and  precedent  had  estab- 
lished the  manner  of  his  reply,  and  his  repar- 
tee was  as  quick  as  light  and  most  effective. 
Having  resented  the  epithets  he  gave  his 
attention  to  the  occupants  of  the  room. 

Smoke  drifted  over  the  table  in  an  agitated 
cloud  and  dribbled  lazily  upward  from  the 
muzzle  of  his  six-shooter,  while  he  looked 
searchingly  at  those  around  him.  Strained 
and  eager  faces  peered  at  his  opponent,  who 
was  sliding  slowly  forward  in  his  chair,  and 
for  the  length  of  a  minute  no  sound  but  the 
guarded  breathing  of  the  onlookers  could  be 

8? 


BAR  —  20 


heard.  This  was  broken  by  a  nervous  cough 
from  the  rear  of  the  room,  and  the  faces 
assumed  their  ordinary  nonchalant  expres- 
sions, their  rugged  lines  heavily  shadowed  in 
the  light  of  the  flickering  oil  lamps,  while  the 
shuffling  of  cards  and  the  clink  of  silver 
became  audible.  Hopalong  Cassidy  had 
objected  to  insulting  remarks  about  his  afflic- 
tion. 

Hopalong  was  very  sensitive  about  his 
crippled  leg  and  was  always  prompt  to  resent 
any  scorn  or  curiosity  directed  at  it,  especially 
when  emanating  from  strangers.  A  young 
man  of  twenty-three  years,  when  surrounded 
by  nearly  perfect  specimens  of  physical  man- 
hood, is  apt  to  be  painfully  self-conscious  of 
any  such  defect,  and  it  reacted  on  his  nature 
at  times,  even  though  he  was  well  known  for 
his  happy-go-lucky  disposition  and  playful- 
ness. He  consoled  himself  with  the  knowl- 
edge that  what  he  lost  in  symmetry  was  more 
than  balanced  by  the  celerity  and  certainty 
of  his  gun  hand,  which  was  right  or  left,  or 
both,  as  the  occasion  demanded. 
88 


TRIALS  OF  A  CONVALESCENT 

Several  hours  later,  as  his  luck  was  vacil- 
lating, he  felt  a  heavy  hand  on  his  shoulder, 
and  was  overjoyed  at  seeing  Buck  and  Red, 
the  latter  grinning  as  only  Red  could  grin, 
and  he  withdrew  from  the  game  to  enjoy  his 
good  fortune. 

While  Hopalong  had  been  wandering  over 
the  country  the  two  friends  had  been  hunting 
for  him  and  had  traced  him  successfully,  that 
being  due  to  the  trail  he  had  blazed  with  his 
six-shooters.  This  they  had  accomplished 
without  harm  to  themselves,  as  those  of  whom 
they  inquired  thought  that  they  must  want 
Hopalong  "  bad,"  and  cheerfully  gave  the 
information  required. 

They  had  started  out  more  for  the  purpose 
of  accompanying  him  for  pleasure,  but  that 
had  changed  to  an  urgent  necessity  in  the 
following  manner: 

While  on  the  way  from  Denver  to  Santa 
Fe  they  had  met  Pete  Willis  of  the  Three 
Triangle,  a  ranch  that  adjoined  their  own, 
and  they  paused  to  pass  the  compliments  of 
the  season. 


BAR  —  20 


"  Purty  far  from  th'  grub  wagon,  Pie," 
remarked  Buck. 

"  Oh,  I'm  only  goin'  to  Denver,"  re- 
sponded Pie. 

"  Purty  hot,"  suggested  Red. 

"  She  shore  is.  Seen  anybody  yu  knows?  " 
Pie  asked. 

"  One  or  two — Billy  of  th'  Star  Crescent 
an'  Panhandle  Lukins,"  answered  Buck. 

"That  so?  Panhandle's  goin'  to  punch 
for  us  next  year.  I'll  hunt  him  up.  I  heard 
down  south  of  Albuquerque  that  Thirsty 
Jones  an'  his  brothers  are  lookin'  for  trou- 
ble," offered  Pie. 

u  Yah !  They  ain't  lookin'  for  no  trouble 
— they  just  goes  around  blowin'  off.  Trouble  ? 
Why,  they  don't  know  what  she  is,"  remarked 
Red  contemptuously. 

"  Well,  they's  been  dodgin'  th'  sheriff  purty 
lively  lately,  an'  if  that  ain't  trouble  I  don't 
know  what  is,"  said  Pie. 

u  It  shore  is,  an'  hard  to  dodge,"  acqui- 
esced Buck. 

"  Well,  I  has  to  amble.  Is  Panhandle  in 
Denver?  Yes?  I  calculates  as  how  me  an' 
90 


TRIALS  OF  A  CONVALESCENT 

him'll  buck  th'  tiger  for  a  whirl — he's 
shore  lucky.  Well,  so  long,"  said  Pie  as  he 
moved  on. 

"  So  long,"  responded  the  two. 

"  Hey,  wait  a  minute,"  yelled  Pie  after  he 
had  ridden  a  hundred  yards.  "  If  yu  se?s 
Hopalong  yu  might  tell  him  that  th'  Joneses 
are  goin'  to  hunt  him  up  when  they  gits  to 
Albuquerque.  They's  shore  sore  on  him. 
'Tain't  none  of  my  funeral,  only  they  ain't 
always  a-carin'  how  they  goes  after  a  feller. 
So  long,"  and  soon  he  was  a  cloud  of  dust  on 
the  horizon. 

"  Trouble!  "  snorted  Red;  "  well,  between 
dodgin'  Harris  an'  huntin'  Hopalong  I  reck- 
ons they'll  shore  find  her."  Then  to  himself 
he  murmured,  "  Funny  how  everythin'  comes 
his  way." 

"  That's  gospel  shore  enough,  but,  as  Pie 
said,  they  ain't  a  whole  lot  particular  as  how 
they  deal  th'  cards.  We  better  get  a  move  on 
an'  find  that  ornery  little  cuss,"  replied  Buck. 

"  O.  K.,  only  I  ain't  losin'  no  sleep  about 
Hoppy.  His  gun's  too  lively  for  me  to  do 
any  worryin',"  asserted  Red. 


BAR  —  20 


"  They'll  get  lynched  some  time,  shore," 
declared  Buck. 

"  Not  if  they  find  Hoppy,"  grimly  replied 
Red. 

They  tore  through  Santa  Fe,  only  stopping 
long  enough  to  wet  their  throats,  and  after 
several  hours  of  hard  riding  entered  Ala- 
meda,  where  they  found  Hopalong  in  the 
manner  narrated. 

After  some  time  the  three  left  the  room 
and  headed  for  Albuquerque,  twelve  miles  to 
the  south.  At  ten  o'clock  they  dismounted 
before  the  Nugget  and  Rope,  an  unpainted 
wooden  building  supposed  to  be  a  clever  com- 
bination of  barroom,  dance  and  gambling  hall 
and  hotel.  The  cleverness  lay  in  the  man  who 
could  find  the  hotel  part. 


92 


CHAPTER    VII 

THE    OPEN   DOOR 

THE  proprietor  of  the  Nugget  and  Rope, 
a  German  named  Baum,  not  being 
troubled  with  police  rules,  kept  the  door  wide 
open  for  the  purpose  of  inviting  trade,  a 
proceeding  not  to  the  liking  of  his  patrons  for 
obvious  reasons.  Probably  not  one  man  in 
ten  was  fortunate  enough  to  have  no  one 
"  looking  for  him,"  and  the  lighted  interior 
assured  good  hunting  to  any  one  in  the  dark 
street.  He  was  continually  opening  the  door, 
which  every  newcomer  promptly  and  forcibly 
slammed  shut.  When  he  saw  men  walk  across 
the  room  for  the  express  purpose  of  slamming 
it  he  began  to  cherish  the  idea  that  there  was 
a  conspiracy  on  foot  to  anger  him  and  thus 
force  him  to  bring  about  his  own  death.  After 
the  door  had  been  slammed  three  times  in 
one  evening  by  one  man,  the  last  slam  being 
so  forcible  as  to  shake  two  bottles  from  the 
93 


BAR  —  20 


shelf  and  to  crack  the  door  itself,  he  became 
positive  that  his  suspicions  were  correct,  and 
so  was  very  careful  to  smile  and  take  it  as  a 
joke.  Finally,  wearied  by  his  vain  efforts  to 
keep  it  open  and  fearing  for  the  door,  he  hit 
upon  a  scheme,  the  brilliancy  of  which  inflated 
his  chest  and  gave  him  the  appearance  of  a 
prize-winning  bantam.  When  his  patrons 
strolled  in  that  night  there  was  no  door  to 
slam,  as  it  lay  behind  the  bar. 

When  Buck  and  Red  entered,  closely  fol- 
lowed by  Hopalong,  they  elbowed  their  way 
to  the  rear  of  the  room,  where  they  could  see 
before  being  seen.  As  yet  they  had  said 
nothing  to  Hopalong  about  Pie's  warning 
and  were  debating  in  their  minds  whether 
they  should  do  so  or  not,  when  Hopalong 
interrupted  their  thoughts  by  laughing.  They 
looked  up  and  he  nodded  toward  the  front, 
where  they  saw  that  anxious  eyes  from  all 
parts  of  the  room  were  focused  on  the  open 
door.  Then  they  noticed  that  it  had  been 
removed.  The  air  of  semi-hostile,  semi-anx- 
ious inquiry  of  the  patrons  and  the  smile  of 
satisfaction  covering  the  face  of  Baum  ap- 
94 


THE   OPEN  DOOR 


pealed  to  them  as  the  most  ludicrous  sight 
their  eyes  had  seen  for  months,  and  they 
leaned  back  and  roared  with  laughter,  thus 
calling  forth  sundry  looks  of  disapproval  from 
the  innocent  causers  of  their  merriment.  But 
they  were  too  well  known  in  Albuquerque  to 
allow  the  disapproval  to  approach  a  serious 
end,  and  finally,  as  the  humorous  side  of  the 
situation  dawned  on  the  crowd,  they  joined 
in  the  laugh  and  all  went  merrily. 

At  the  psychologic  moment  some  one 
shouted  for  a  dance  and  the  suggestion  met 
with  uproarious  approval.  At  that  moment 
Harris,  the  sheriff,  came  in  and  volunteered 
to  supply  the  necessary  music  if  the  crowd 
would  pay  the  fine  against  a  straying  fiddler 
he  had  corraled  the  day  before.  A  hat  was 
quickly  passed  and  a  sum  was  realized  which 
would  pay  several  fines  to  come  and  Harris 
departed  for  the  music. 

A  chair  was  placed  on  the  bar  for  the 
musician  and,  to  the  tune  of  u  Old  Dan 
Tucker  "  and  an  assortment  of  similar  airs, 
the  board  floor  shook  and  trembled.  It  was 
a  comical  sight  and  Hopalong,  the  only  wall- 
95 


BAR  —  20 


flower  besides  Baum  and  the  sheriff,  laughed 
until  he  became  weak.  Cow  punchers  play 
as  they  work,  hard  and  earnestly,  and  there 
was  plenty  of  action.  Sombreros  flapped  like 
huge  wings  and  the  baggy  chaps  looked  like 
small,  distorted  balloons. 

The  Virginia  reel  was  a  marvel  of  supple, 
exaggerated  grace  and  the  quadrille  looked 
like  a  free-for-all  for  unbroken  colts.  The 
honor  of  prompter  was  conferred  upon  the 
sheriff,  and  he  gravely  called  the  changes  as 
they  were  usually  called  in  that  section  of  the 
country : 

"Oh,  th'  ladies  trail  in 

An'  th'  gents  trail  out, 
An*  all  stampede  down  th'  middle. 
If  yu  ain't  got  th'  tin 

Yu  can  dance  an'  shout, 
But  yu  must  keep  up  with  th'  fiddle." 

As  the  dance  waxed  faster  and  the  dancers 
grew  hotter  Hopalong,  feeling  lonesome  be- 
cause he  wouldn't  face  ridicule,  even  if  it  was 
not  expressed,  went  over  and  stood  by  the 
sheriff.  He  and  Harris  were  good  friends, 
for  he  had  received  the  wound  that  crippled 


THE   OPEN  DOOR 


him  in  saving  the  sheriff  from  assassination. 
Harris  killed  the  man  who  had  fired  that  shot, 
and  from  this  episode  on  the  burning  desert 
grew  a  friendship  that  was  as  strong  as  their 
own  natures. 

Harris  was  very  well  liked  by  the  majority 
and  feared  by  the  rest,  for  he  was  a  "  square  " 
man  and  the  best  sheriff  the  county  had  ever 
known.  Quiet  and  unassuming,  small  of 
stature  and  with  a  kind  word  for  every  one, 
he  was  a  universal  favorite  among  the  better 
class  of  citizens.  Quick  as  a  flash  and  unerr- 
ing in  his  shooting,  he  was  a  nightmare  to  the 
"  bad  men."  No  profane  word  had  ever  been 
known  to  leave  his  lips,  and  he  was  the  pos- 
sessor of  a  widespread  reputation  for  gener- 
osity. His  face  was  naturally  frank  and  open ; 
but  when  his  eyes  narrowed  with  determina- 
tion it  became  blank  and  cold.  When  he  saw 
his  young  friend  sidle  over  to  him  he  smiled 
and  nodded  a  hearty  welcome. 

"  They's  shore  cuttin'  her  loose,"  remarked 
Hopalong. 

"  First  two  pairs  forward  an'  back ! — they 
shore  is,"  responded  the  prompter. 
97 


BAR  —  20 


"Who's  th'  gent  playin'  lady  to  Buck?" 
queried  Hopalong. 

"  Forward  again  an'  ladies  change! — Billy 
Jordan." 

Hopalong  watched  the  couple  until  they 
swung  around  and  then  he  laughed  silently. 
"  Buck's  got  too  many  feet,"  he  seriously  re- 
marked to  his  friend. 

"Swing  th'  girl  yu  loves  th'  best! — he 
ain't  lonesome,  look  at  that " 

Two  shots  rang  out  in  quick  succession  and 
Harris  stumbled,  wheeled  and  pitched  for- 
ward on  his  face  as  Hopalong's  sombrero 
spun  across  his  body.  For  a  second  there  was 
an  intense  silence,  heavy,  strained  and  sicken- 
ing. Then  a  roar  broke  forth  and  the  crowd 
of  frenzied  merry-makers,  headed  by  Hopa- 
long, poured  out  into  the  street  and  spread 
out  to  search  the  town.  As  daylight  dawned 
the  searchers  began  to  straggle  back  with  the 
same  report  of  failure.  Buck  and  Red  met  on 
the  street  near  the  door  and  each  looked 
questioningly  at  the  other.  Each  shook  his 
head  and  looked  around,  their  fingers  toying 
absent-mindedly  at  their  belts.  Finally  Buck 


THE   OPEN  DOOR 


cleared  his  throat  and  remarked  casually, 
"  Mebby  he's  following  'em." 

Red  nodded  and  they  went  over  toward 
their  horses.  As  they  were  hesitating  which 
route  to  take,  Billy  Jordan  came  up. 

"  Mebby  yu'd  like  to  see  yore  pardner — 
he's  out  by  Buzzard's  Spring.  We'll  take 
care  of  him'9  jerking  his  thumb  over  his 
shoulder  toward  the  saloon  where  Harris's 
body  lay.  "  And  we'll  all  git  th'  others  later. 
They  can't  git  away  for  long." 

Buck  and  Red  nodded  and  headed  for  Buz- 
zard's Spring.  As  they  neared  the  water  hole 
they  saw  Hopalong  sitting  on  a  rock,  his  head 
resting  in  one  hand  while  the  other  hung 
loosely  from  his  knee.  He  did  not  notice 
them  when  they  arrived,  and  with  a  ready 
tact  they  sat  quietly  on  their  horses  and  looked 
in  every  direction  except  toward  him.  The 
sun  became  a  ball  of  molten  fire  and  the  sand 
flies  annoyed  them  incessantly,  but  still  they 
sat  and  waited,  silent  and  apologetic. 

Hopalong  finally  arose,  reached  for  his 
sombrero,  and,  finding  it  gone,  swore  long 
and  earnestly  at  the  scene  its  loss  brought  be- 
99 


BAR  —  20 


fore  him.  He  walked  over  to  his  horse  and, 
leaping  into  the  saddle,  turned  and  faced  his 
friends.  l  Yu  old  sons-of-guns,"  he  said. 
They  looked  sheepish  and  nodded  negatively 
in  answer  to  the  look  of  inquiry  in  his  eyes. 
"  They  ain't  got  'em  yet,"  remarked  Red 
slowly.  Hopalong  straightened  up,  his  eyes 
narrowed  and  his  face  became  hard  and  reso- 
lute as  he  led  the  way  back  toward  the  town. 

Buck  rode  up  beside  him  and,  wiping  his 
face  with  his  shirt  sleeve,  began  to  speak  to 
Red.  "  We  might  look  up  th'  Joneses,  Red. 
They  had  been  dodgin'  th'  sheriff  purty  lively 
lately,  an'  they  was  huntin'  Hopalong.  Ever 
since  we  had  to  kill  their  brother  in  Buckskin 
they  has  been  yappin'  as  how  they  was  goin' 
to  wipe  us  out.  Hopalong  an'  Harris  was 
standin'  clost  together  an'  they  tried  for  both. 
They  shot  twice,  one  for  Harris  an'  one  for 
Hopalong,  an'  what  more  do  yu  want?  " 

"It  shore  looks  thataway,  Buck,"  replied 
Red,  biting  into  a  huge  plug  of  tobacco 
which  he  produced  from  his  chaps.  "  Any- 
how, they  wouldn't  be  no  loss  if  they  didn't. 
'Member  what  Pie  said?" 
100 


THE  OPEN  DOOR 


Hopalong  looked  straight  ahead,  and  when 
he  spoke  the  words  sounded  as  though  he 
had  bitten  them  off:  "Yore  right,  Buck, 
but  I  gits  first  try  at  Thirsty.  He's  my  meat 
an'  I'll  plug  th'  fellow  what  says  he  ain't. 
Damn  him !  " 

The  others  replied  by  applying  their  spurs, 
and  in  a  short  time  they  dismounted  before 
the  Nugget  and  Rope.  Thirsty  wouldn't 
have  a  chance  to  not  care  how  he  dealt  the 
cards. 

Buck  and  Red  moved  quickly  through  the 
crowd,  speaking  fast  and  earnestly.  When 
they  returned  to  where  they  had  left  their 
friend  they  saw  him  half  a  block  away  and 
they  followed  slowly,  one  on  either  side  of  the 
street.  There  would  be  no  bullets  in  his  back 
if  they  knew  what  they  were  about,  and  they 
usually  did. 

As  Hopalong  neared  the  corner,  Thirsty 
and  his  two  brothers  turned  it  and  saw  him. 
Thirsty  said  something  in  a  low  voice,  and 
the  other  two  walked  across  the  street  and 
disappeared  behind  the  store.  When  assured 
that  they  were  secure,  Thirsty  walked  up  to 
101 


BAR  —  20 


a  huge  boulder  on  the  side  of  the  street 
farthest  from  the  store  and  turned  and  faced 
his  enemy,  who  approached  rapidly  until 
about  five  paces  away,  when  he  slowed  up  and 
finally  stopped. 

For  a  number  of  seconds  they  sized  each 
other  up,  Hopalong  quiet  and  deliberate  with 
a  deadly  hatred ;  Thirsty  pale  and  furtive  with 
a  sensation  hitherto  unknown  to  him.  It  was 
Right  meeting  Wrong,  and  Wrong  lost  confi- 
dence. Often  had  Thirsty  Jones  looked 
death  in  the  face  and  laughed,  but  there  was 
something  in  Hopalong's  eyes  that  made  his 
flesh  creep. 

He  glanced  quickly  past  his  foe  and  took 
in  the  scene  with  one  flash  of  his  eyes.  There 
was  the  crowd,  eager,  expectant,  scowling. 
There  were  Buck  and  Red,  each  lounging 
against  a  boulder,  Buck  on  his  right,  Red  on 
his  left.  Before  him  stood  the  only  man  he 
had  ever  feared.  Hopalong  shifted  his  feet 
and  Thirsty,  coming  to  himself  with  a  start, 
smiled.  His  nerve  had  been  shaken,  but  he 
was  master  of  himself  once  more. 

"  Well !  "  he  snarled,  scowling. 
102 


THE   OPEN  DOOR 


Hopalong  made  no  response,  but  stared 
him  in  the  eyes. 

Thirsty  expected  action,  and  the  deadly 
quiet  of  his  enemy  oppressed  him.  He  stared 
in  turn,  but  the  insistent  searching  of  his 
opponent's  eyes  scorched  him  and  he  shifted 
his  gaze  to  Hopalong's  neck. 

"  Well !  "  he  repeated  uneasily. 

"  Did  yu  have  a  nice  time  at  th'  dance  last 
night?"  asked  Hopalong,  still  searching  the 
face  before  him. 

'*  Was  there  a  dance?  I  was  over  in  Ala- 
meda,"  replied  Thirsty  shortly. 

"  Ya-as,  there  was  a  dance,  an'  yu  can  shoot 
purty  d — n  far  if  yu  was  in  Alameda," 
responded  Hopalong,  his  voice  low  and 
monotonous. 

Thirsty  shifted  his  feet  and  glanced  around. 
Buck  and  Red  were  still  lounging  against 
their  boulders  and  apparently  were  not  pay- 
ing any  attention  to  the  proceedings.  His 
fickle  nerve  came  back  again,  for  he  knew  he 
would  receive  fair  play.  So  he  faced  Hopa- 
long once  more  and  regarded  him  with  a 
cynical  smile. 

103 


BAR  — 20 


"  Yu  seems  to  worry  a  whole  lot  about  me. 
Is  it  because  yu  has  a  tender  feelin',  or  because 
it's  none  of  yore  d — n  business?"  he  asked 
aggressively. 

Hopalong  paled  with  sudden  anger,  but 
controlled  himself. 

"  It's  because  yu  murdered  Harris,"  he 
replied. 

"  Shoo !  An'  how  does  yu  figger  it  out?  " 
asked  Thirsty,  jauntily. 

"  He  was  huntin'  yu  hard  an'  yu  thought 
yu'd  stop  it,  so  yu  came  in  to  lay  for  him. 
When  yu  saw  me  an'  him  together  yu  saw  th' 
chance  to  wipe  out  another  score.  That's  how 
I  figger  it  out,"  replied  Hopalong  quietly. 

"  Yore  a  reg'lar  'tective,  ain't  yu?  "  Thirsty 
asked  ironically. 

"  I've  got  common  sense,"  responded  Hop- 
along. 

"Yu  has?  Yu  better  tell  th'  rest  that, 
too,"  replied  Thirsty. 

"  I  know  yu  shot  Harris,  an'  yu  can't  get 
out  of  it  by  makin'  funny  remarks.  Anyhow, 
yu  won't  be  much  loss,  an'  th'  stage  company 
'11  feel  better,  too." 

104 


THE   OPEN  DOOR 


"  Shoo !  An'  suppose  I  did  shoot  him,  I 
done  a  good  job,  didn't  I  ?  " 

"  Yu  did  the  worst  job  yu  could  do,  yu 
highway  robber,"  softly  said  Hopalong,  at 
the  same  time  moving  nearer.  "  Harris  knew 
yu  stopped  th'  stage  last  month,  an'  that's 
why  yu've  been  dodgin'  him." 

"Yore  a  liar!  "  shouted  Thirsty,  reaching 
for  his  gun. 

The  movement  was  fatal,  for  before  he 
could  draw,  the  Colt  in  Hopalong's  holster 
leaped  out  and  flashed  from  its  owner's  hip 
and  Thirsty  fell  sideways,  face  down  in  the 
dust  of  the  street. 

Hopalong  started  toward  the  fallen  man, 
but  as  he  did  so  a  shot  rang  out  from  behind 
the  store  and  he  pitched  forward,  stumbled 
and  rolled  behind  the  boulder.  As  he  stum- 
bled his  left  hand  streaked  to  his  hip,  and 
when  he  fell  he  had  a  gun  in  each  hand. 

As  he  disappeared  from  sight  Goodeye  and 
Bill  Jones  stepped  from  behind  the  store  and 
started  to  run  away.  Not  able  to  resist  the 
temptation  to  look  again,  they  stopped  and 
turned  and  Bill  laughed. 
105 


BAR  —  20 


"  Easy  as  h — 1,"  he  said. 

"  Run,  yu  fool— Red  an'  Buck  '11  be  here. 
Want  to  git  plugged?"  shouted  Goodeye 
angrily. 

They  turned  and  started  for  a  group  of 
ponies  twenty  yards  away,  and  as  they  leaped 
into  the  saddles  two  shots  were  fired  from  the 
street.  As  the  reports  died  away  Buck  and 
Red  turned  the  corner  of  the  store,  Colts  in 
hand,  and,  checking  their  rush  as  they  saw  the 
saddles  emptied,  they  turned  toward  the  street 
and  saw  Hopalong,  with  blood  oozing  from 
an  abrasion  on  his  cheek,  sitting  up  cross- 
legged,  with  each  hand  holding  a  gun,  from 
which  came  thin  wisps  of  smoke. 

"  Th'  son-of-a-gun!"  cried  Buck,  proud  and 
delighted. 

"  Th'  son-of-a-gun !  "  echoed  Red,  grin- 
ning. 


106 


Setting  up  cross-legged,  with  each  hand  holding  a  gun 


CHAPTER    VIII 

HOPALONG    KEEPS   HIS   WORD 

THE  waters  of  the  Rio  Grande  slid 
placidly  toward  the  Gulf,  the  hot  sun 
branding  the  sleepy  waters  with  streaks  of 
molten  fire.  To  the  north  arose  from  the 
gray  sandy  plain  the  Quitman  Mountains,  and 
beyond  them  lay  Bass  Canon.  From  the  lat- 
ter emerged  a  solitary  figure  astride  a  bron- 
cho, and  as  he  ascended  the  topmost  rise  he 
glanced  below  him  at  the  placid  stream  and 
beyond  it  into  Mexico.  As  he  sat  quietly  in 
his  saddle  he  smiled  and  laughed  gently  to 
himself.  The  trail  he  had  just  followed  had 
been  replete  with  trouble  which  had  suited 
the  state  of  his  mind  and  he  now  felt  humor- 
ous, having  cleaned  up  a  pressing  debt  with 
his  six-shooter.  Surely  there  ought  to  be  a 
mild  sort  of  excitement  in  the  land  he  faced, 
something  picturesque  and  out  of  the  ordi- 
nary. This  was  to  be  the  finishing  touch  to 
107 


BAR  —  20 


his  trip,  and  he  had  left  his  two  companions 
at  Albuquerque  in  order  that  he  might  have 
to  himself  all  that  he  could  find. 

Not  many  miles  to  the  south  of  him  lay  the 
town  which  had  been  the  rendezvous  of 
Tamale  Jose,  whose  weakness  had  been  a 
liking  for  other  people's  cattle.  Well  he 
remembered  his  first  man  hunt :  the  discovery 
of  the  theft,  the  trail  and  pursuit  and — the 
ending.  He  was  scarcely  eighteen  years  of 
age  when  that  event  took  place,  and  the  wis- 
dom he  had  absorbed  then  had  stood  him  in 
good  stead  many  times  since.  He  had  even 
now  a  touch  of  pride  at  the  recollection  how, 
when  his  older  companions  had  failed  to  get 
Tamale  Jose,  he  with  his  undeveloped  strategy 
had  gained  that  end.  The  fight  would  never 
be  forgotten,  as  it  was  his  first,  and  no  sight 
of  wounds  would  ever  affect  him  as  did  those 
of  Red  Connors  as  he  lay  huddled  up  in  the 
dark  corner  of  that  old  adobe  hut. 

He  came  to  himself  and  laughed  again  as 

he  thought  of  Carmencita,  the  first  girl  he 

had  ever  known — and  the  last.    With  a  boy's 

impetuosity  he  had  wooed  her  in  a  manner 

108 


HOP  ALONG  KEEPS  HIS  WORD 

far  different  from  that  of  the  peons  who  sang 
beneath  her  window  and  talked  to  her  mother. 
He  had  boldly  scaled  the  wall  and  did  his 
courting  in  her  house,  trusting  to  luck  and  to 
his  own  ability  to  avoid  being  seen.  No  hid- 
den meaning  lay  in  his  words ;  he  spoke  from 
his  heart  and  with  no  concealment.  And  he 
remembered  the  treachery  that  had  forced 
him,  fighting,  to  the  camp  of  his  outfit;  and 
when  he  had  returned  with  his  friends  she 
had  disappeared.  To  this  day  he  hated  that 
mud-walled  convent  and  those  sisters  who  so 
easily  forgot  how  to  talk.  The  fragrance  of 
the  old  days  wrapped  themselves  around 
him,  and  although  he  had  ceased  to  pine 
for  his  black-eyed  Carmencita  —  well,  it 
would  be  nice  if  he  chanced  to  see  her 
again.  Spurring  his  mount  into  an  easy  can- 
ter he  swept  down  to  and  across  the  river, 
fording  it  where  he  had  crossed  it  when  pursu- 
ing Tamale  Jose. 

The  town  lay  indolent  under  the  Mexican 

night,  and  the  strumming  of  guitars  and  the 

tinkle  of  spurs  and  tiny  bells  softly  echoed 

from   several  houses.     The  convent  of   St. 

109 


BAR  —  20 


Maria  lay  indistinct  in  its  heavy  shadows  and 
the  little  church  farther  up  the  dusty  street 
showed  dim  lights  in  its  stained  windows.  Off 
to  the  north  became  audible  the  rhythmic 
beat  of  a  horse  and  soon  a  cowboy  swept  past 
the  convent  with  a  mocking  bow.  He  clat- 
tered across  the  stone-paved  plaza  and  threw 
his  mount  back  on  its  haunches  as  he  stopped 
before  a  house.  Glancing  around  and  deter- 
mining to  find  out  a  few  facts  as  soon  as 
possible,  he  rode  up  to  the  low  door  and 
pounded  upon  it  with  the  butt  of  his  Colt. 
After  waiting  for  possibly  half  a  minute  and 
receiving  no  response  he  hammered  a  tune 
upon  it  with  two  Colts  and  had  the  satisfac- 
tion of  seeing  half  a  score  of  heads  protrude 
from  the  windows  in  the  nearby  houses. 

"  If  I  could  scare  up  another  gun  I  might 
get  th'  whole  blamed  town  up,"  he  grumbled 
whimsically,  and  fell  on  the  door  with  an- 
other tune. 

"  Who  is  it?"  came  from  within.  The 
voice  was  distinctly  feminine  and  Hopalong 
winked  to  himself  in  congratulation. 

"  Me,"  he  replied,  twirling  his  fingers  from 
no 


HOP  ALONG  KEEPS  HIS  WORD 

his  nose  at  the  curious,  forgetting  that  the 
darkness  hid  his  actions  from  sight. 

"  Yes,  I  know;  but  who  is  *  me  '?  "  came 
from  the  house. 

"  Ain't  I  a  fool!  "  he  complained  to  him- 
self, and  raising  his  voice  he  replied  coaxingly, 
"  Open  th'  door  a  bit  an'  see.  Are  yu  Car- 
mencita  ?  " 

"  O-o-o !  But  you  must  tell  me  who  it  is 
first." 

"  Mr.  Cassidy,"  he  replied,  flushing  at  the 
4  mister,'  "  an'  I  wants  to  see  Carmencita." 

"  Carmencita  who?"  teasingly  came  from 
behind  the  door. 

Hopalong  scratched  his  head.  "  Gee,  yu've 
roped  me — I  suppose  she  has  got  another 
handle.  Oh,  yu  know — she  used  to  live  here 
about  seven  years  back.  She  had  great  big 
black  eyes,  pretty  cheeks  an'  a  mouth  that  'ud 
stampede  anybody.  Don't  yu  know  now? 
She  was  about  so  high,"  holding  out  his  hands 
in  the  darkness. 

The  door  opened  a  trifle  on  a  chain  and 
Hopalong  peered  eagerly  forward. 

"  Ah,  it  is  you,  the  brave  Americano  1  You 
in 


BAR  —  20 


must  go  away  quick  or  you  will  meet  with 
harm.  Manuel  is  awfully  jealous  and  he  will 
kill  you  !  Go  at  once,  please !  " 

Hopalong  pulled  at  the  half-hearted  down 
upon  his  lip  and  laughed  softly.  Then  he 
slid  the  guns  back  in  their  holsters  and  felt  of 
his  sombrero. 

"  Manuel  wants  to  see  me  first,  Star  Eyes." 

"  No !  no !  "  she  replied,  stamping  upon 
the  floor  vehemently.  "  You  must  go  now — 
at  once !  " 

"  I'd  shore  look  nice  hittin'  th'  trail  because 
Manuel  Somebody  wants  to  get  hurt,  wouldn't 
I  ?  Don't  yu  remember  how  I  used  to  shinny 
up  this  here  wall  an'  skin  th'  cat  gettin' 
through  that  hole  up  there  what  yu  said  was 
a  window?  Ah,  come  on  an'  open  th'  door — 
I'd  shore  like  to  see  yu  again!  "  pleaded  the 
irrepressible. 

"No!  no!  Go  away.  Oh,  won't  you 
please  go  away!  " 

Hopalong  sighed  audibly  and  turned  his 

horse.    As  he  did  so  he  heard  the  door  open 

and  a  sigh  reached  his  ears.    He  wheeled  like 

a  flash  and  found  the  door  closed  again  on  its 

112 


HOPALONG  KEEPS  HIS  WORD 

chain.  A  laugh  of  delight  came  from  be- 
hind it. 

"  Come  out,  please ! — just  for  a  minute," 
he  begged,  wishing  that  he  was  brave  enough 
to  smash  the  door  to  splinters  and  grab  her. 

"  If  I  do,  will  you  go  away?  "  asked  the 
girl.  "  Oh,  what  will  Manuel  say  if  he  comes? 
And  all  those  people,  they'll  tell  him !  " 

"  Hey,  yu !  "  shouted  Hopalong,  brandish- 
ing his  Colts  at  the  protruding  heads.  "  Git 
scarce !  I'll  shore  plug  th'  last  one  in !  "  Then 
he  laughed  at  the  sudden  vanishing. 

The  door  slowly  opened  and  Carmencita, 
fat  and  drowsy,  wobbled  out  to  him.  Hopa- 
long's  feelings  were  interfering  with  his 
breathing  as  he  surveyed  her.  "  Oh,  yu  shore 
are  mistaken,  Mrs.  Carmencita.  I  wants  to 
see  yore  daughter!  yy 

"  Ah,  you  have  forgotten  the  little  Car- 
mencita who  used  to  look  for  you.  Like  all 
the  men,  you  have  forgotten,"  she  cooed  re- 
proachfully. Then  her  fear  predominated 
again  and  she  cried,  "  Oh,  if  my  husband 
should  see  me  now !  " 

Hopalong  mastered  his  astonishment  and 


BAR  —  20 


bowed.  He  had  a  desire  to  ride  madly  into 
the  Rio  Grande  and  collect  his  senses. 

"  Yu  are  right — this  is  too  dangerous — 
I'll  amble  on  some,"  he  replied  hastily.  Un- 
der his  breath  he  prayed  that  the  outfit  would 
never  learn  of  this.  He  turned  his  horse  and 
rode  slowly  up  the  street  as  the  door  closed. 

Rounding  the  corner  he  heard  a  soft  foot- 
fall, and  swerving  in  his  saddle  he  turned 
and  struck  with  all  his  might  in  the  face  of  a 
man  who  leaped  at  him,  at  the  same  time 
grasping  the  uplifted  wrist  with  his  other 
hand.  A  curse  and  the  tinkle  of  thin  steel 
on  the  pavement  accompanied  the  fall  of  his 
opponent.  Bending  down  from  his  saddle  he 
picked  up  the  weapon  and  the  next  minute  the 
enraged  assassin  was  staring  into  the  unwav- 
ering and,  to  him,  growing  muzzle  of  a 
Colt's  .45. 

"  Yu  shore  had  a  "bum  teacher.  Don't  yu 
know  better'n  to  push  it  in?  An1  me  a  cow- 
puncher,  tool  I'm  most  grieved  at  yore 
conduct — it  shows  you  don't  appreciate  cow- 
wrastlers.  This  is  safer,"  he  remarked, 
throwing  the  stiletto  through  the  air  and  into 
114 


HOPALONG  KEEPS  HIS  WORD 

a  door,  where  it  rang  out  angrily  and  quiv- 
ered. "  I  don't  know  as  I  wants  to  ventilate 
yu;  we  mostly  poisons  coyotes  up  my  way," 
he  added.  Then  a  thought  struck  him.  "  Yu 
must  be  that  dear  Manuel  I've  been  hearin' 
so  much  about?  " 

A  snarl  was  the  only  reply  and  Hopalong 
grinned. 

"  Yu  shore  ain't  got  no  call  to  go  loco  that 
way,  none  whatever.  I  don't  want  yore  Car- 
mencita.  I  only  called  to  say  hulloo,"  re- 
sponded Hopalong,  his  sympathies  being 
aroused  for  the  wounded  man  before  him 
from  his  vivid  recollection  of  the  woman  who 
had  opened  the  door. 

"Yah!"  snarled  Manuel.  "You  wants 
to  poison  my  little  bird.  You  with  your  fair 
hair  and  your  cursed  swagger!  " 

The  six-shooter  tentatively  expanded  and 
then  stopped  six  inches  from  the  Mexican's 
nose.  "  Yu  wants  to  ride  easy,  hombre.  I 
ain't  no  angel,  but  I  don't  poison  no  woman ; 
an'  don't  yu  amble  off  with  th'  idea  in  yore 
head  that  she  wants  to  be  poisoned.  Why, 
she  near  stuck  a  knife  in  me !  "  he  lied. 


BAR  —  20 


The  Mexican's  face  brightened  somewhat, 
but  it  would  take  more  than  that  to  wipe  out 
the  insult  of  the  blow.  The  horse  became 
restless,  and  when  Hopalong  had  effectively 
quieted  it  he  spoke  again. 

"  Did  yu  ever  hear  of  Tamale  Jose?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  I'm  th'  fellow  that  stopped  him  in 
th'  'dobe  hut  by  th'  arroyo.  I'm  tellin'  yu 
this  so  yu  won't  do  nothin'  rash  an'  leave 
Carmencita  a  widow.  Sabe  ?  " 

The  hate  on  the  Mexican's  face  redoubled 
and  he  took  a  short  step  forward,  but  stopped 
when  the  muzzle  of  the  Colt  kissed  his  nose. 
He  was  the  brother  of  Tamale  Jose.  As  he 
backed  away  from  the  cool  touch  of  the 
weapon  he  thought  out  swiftly  his  revenge. 
Some  of  his  brother's  old  companions  were  at 
that  moment  drinking  mescal  in  a  saloon  down 
the  street,  and  they  would  be  glad  to  see  this 
Americano  die.  He  glanced  past  his  house  at 
the  saloon  and  Hopalong  misconstrued  his 
thoughts. 

"  Shore,  go  home.  I'll  just  circulate  around 
some  for  exercise.  No  hard  feelings,  only  yu 
116 


HOP  ALONG  KEEPS  HIS  WORD 

better  throw  it  next  time,"  he  said  as  he 
backed  away  and  rode  off.  Manuel  went 
down  the  street  and  then  ran  into  the  saloon, 
where  he  caused  an  uproar. 

Hopalong  rode  to  the  end  of  the  plaza 
and  tried  to  sing,  but  it  was  a  dismal  failure. 
Then  he  felt  thirsty  and  wondered  why  he 
hadn't  thought  of  it  before.  Turning  his 
horse  and  seeing  the  saloon  he  rode  up  to  it 
and  in,  lying  flat  on  the  animal's  neck  to  avoid 
being  swept  off  by  the  door  frame.  His  en- 
trance scared  white  some  half  a  dozen  loung- 
ers, who  immediately  sprang  up  in  a  decidedly 
hostile  manner.  Hopalong's  Colts  peeped 
over  the  ears  of  his  horse  and  he  backed  into 
a  corner  near  the  bar. 

"  One,  two,  three  —  now,  altogether, 
breathe!  Yu  acts  like  yu  never  saw  a  real 
puncher  afore.  All  th'  same,"  he  remarked, 
nodding  at  several  of  the  crowd,  u  I've  seen 
yu  afore.  Yu  are  th'  gents  with  th'  hot-foot 
get-a-way  that  vamoosed  when  we  got 
Tamale." 

Curses  were  flung  at  him  and  only  the 
humorous  mood  he  was  in  saved  trouble.  One, 
117 


BAR  —  20 


bolder  than  the  rest,  spoke  up:  "The  senor 
will  not  see  any  *  hot-foot  get-a-way,'  as  he 
calls  it,  now  1  The  sefior  was  not  wise  to  go 
so  far  away  from  his  friends!  " 

Hopalong  looked  at  the  speaker  and  a 
quizzical  grin  slowly  spread  over  his  face. 
"  They'll  shore  feel  glad  when  I  tells  them 
yu  was  askin'  for  'em.  But  didn't  yu  see  too 
much  of  'em  once,  or  was  yu  poundin'  leather 
in  the  other  direction?  Yu  don't  want  to 
worry  none  about  me — an'  if  yu  don't  get 
yore  hands  closter  to  yore  neck  they'll  be  h — / 
to  pay!  There,  that's  more  like  home,"  he 
remarked,  nodding  assurance. 

Reaching  over  he  grasped  a  bottle  and 
poured  out  a  drink,  his  Colt  slipping  from  his 
hand  and  dangling  from  his  wrist  by  a  thong. 
As  the  weapon  started  to  fall  several  of  the 
audience  involuntarily  moved  as  if  to  pick  it 
up.  Hopalong  noticed  this  and  paused  with 
the  glass  half  way  to  his  lips.  "  Don't  bother 
yoreselves  none;  I  can  git  it  again,"  he  said, 
tossing  off  the  liquor. 

"Wow!  Holy  smoke!  "he  yelled.  "This 
ain't  drink!  Sufferin'  coyotes,  nobody  can 
118 


et  Hopalong's  Colts  peeped  over  the  ears  of  his  horse  " 


HOP  ALONG  KEEPS  HIS  WORD 

accuse  yu  of  sellin'  liquor!  Did  yu  make  this 
all  by  yoreself  ?  "  he  asked  incredulously  of 
the  proprietor,  who  didn't  know  whether  to 
run  or  to  pray.  Then  he  noticed  that  the 
crowd  was  spreading  out  and  his  Colts  again 
became  the  center  of  interest. 

"  Yu  with  th'  lovely  face,  sit  down!"  he 
ordered  as  the  person  addressed  was  gliding 
toward  the  door.  "  I  ain't  a-goin'  to  let  yu 
pot  me  from  th'  street.  Th'  first  man  who 
tries  to  get  scarce  will  stop  somethin'  hot. 
An'  yu  all  better  sit  down,"  he  suggested, 
sweeping  them  with  his  guns.  One  man, 
more  obdurate  than  the  rest,  was  slow  in  com- 
plying and  Hopalong  sent  a  bullet  through 
the  top  of  his  high  sombrero,  which  had  a 
most  gratifying  effect. 

"  You'll  regret  this!  "  hissed  a  man  in  the 
rear,  and  a  murmur  of  assent  arose.  Some 
one  stirred  slightly  in  searching  for  a  weapon 
and  immediately  a  blazing  Colt  froze  him 
into  a  statue. 

"  Yu  shore  looks  funny;  eeny,  meeny,  miny, 
mo,"  counted  off  the  daring  horseman; 
"  move  a  bit  an'  off  yu  go,"  he  finished.  Then 
119 


BAR  —  20 


his  face  broke  out  in  another  grin  as  he 
thought  of  more  enjoyment. 

"  That  there  gent  on  th'  left,"  he  said, 
pointing  out  with  a  gun  the  man  he  meant. 
"  Yu  sing  us  a  song.  Sing  a  nice  little  song." 

As  the  object  of  his  remarks  remained  mute 
he  let  his  thumb  ostentatiously  slide  back  with 
the  hammer  of  the  gun  under  it.  "Sing! 
Quick!  "  The  man  sang. 

As  Hopalong  leaned  forward  to  say  some- 
thing a  stiletto  flashed  past  his  neck  and 
crashed  into  the  bottle  beside  him.  The  echo 
of  the  crash  was  merged  into  a  report  as 
Hopalong  fired  from  his  waist.  Then  he 
backed  out  into  the  street  and,  wheeling, 
galloped  across  the  plaza  and  again  faced  the 
saloon.  A  flash  split  the  darkness  and  a  bul- 
let hummed  over  his  head  and  thudded  into 
an  adobe  wall  at  his  back.  Another  shot  and 
he  replied,  aiming  at  the  flash.  From  down 
the  street  came  the  sound  of  a  window  open- 
ing and  he  promptly  caused  it  to  close  again. 
Several  more  windows  opened  and  hastily 
closed,  and  he  rode  slowly  toward  the  far  end 
120 


HOP  ALONG  KEEPS  HIS  WORD 

of  the  plaza.  As  he  faced  the  saloon  once 
more  he  heard  a  command  to  throw  up  his 
hands  and  saw  the  glint  of  a  gun,  held  by  a 
man  who  wore  the  insignia  of  sheriff.  Hopa- 
long  complied,  but  as  his  hands  went  up  two 
spurts  of  fire  shot  forth  and  the  sheriff 
dropped  his  weapon,  reeled  and  sat  down. 
Hopalong  rode  over  to  him  and,  swinging 
down,  picked  up  the  gun  and  looked  the  offi- 
cer over. 

"  Shoo,  yu'll  be  all  right  soon — yore  only 
plugged  in  th'  arms,"  he  remarked  as  he 
glanced  up  the  street.  Shadowy  forms  were 
gliding  from  cover  to  cover  and  he  imme- 
diately caused  consternation  among  them  by 
his  accuracy. 

"Ain't  it  h — 1?"  he  complained  to  the 
wounded  man.  "  I  never  starts  out  but  what 
somebody  makes  me  shoot  'em.  Came  down 
here  to  see  a  girl  an'  find  she's  married.  Then 
when  I  moves  on  peaceable-like  her  husband 
makes  me  hit  him.  Then  I  wants  a  drink  an' 
he  goes  an'  fans  a  knife  at  me,  an'  me  just 
teachin'  him  how !  Then  yu  has  to  come  along 
121 


BAR  —  20 


an'  make  more  trouble.  Now  look  at  them 
fools  over  there,"  he  said,  pointing  at  a  dark 
shadow  some  fifty  paces  off.  "  They're  pat- 
tin'  their  backs  because  I  don't  see  'em,  an'  if 
I  hurts  them  they'll  git  mad.  Guess  I'll  make 
'em  dust  along,"  he  added,  shooting  into  the 
spot.  A  howl  went  up  and  two  men  ran  away 
at  top  speed. 

The  sheriff  nodded  his  sympathy  and 
spoke.  "  I  reckons  you  had  -better  give  up. 
You  can't  get  away.  Every  house,  every 
corner  and  shadow  holds  a  man.  You  are  a 
brave  man — but,  as  you  say,  unfortunate. 
Better  help  me  up  and  come  with  me — they'll 
tear  you  to  pieces." 

"  Shore  I'll  help  yu  up — I  ain't  got  no 
grudge  against  nobody.  But  my  friends 
know  where  I  am  an'  they'll  come  down  here 
an'  raise  a  ruction  if  I  don't  show  up.  So, 
if  it's  all  th'  same  to  you,  I'll  be  ambling  right 
along,"  he  said  as  he  helped  the  sheriff  to  his 
feet. 

"  Have  you  any  objections  to  telling  me 
your  name?  "  asked  the  sheriff  as  he  looked 
himself  over. 

122 


HOP  ALONG  KEEPS  HIS  WORD 

"  None  whatever,"  answered  Hopalong 
heartily.  "  I'm  Hopalong  Cassidy  of  th'  Bar 
20,  Texas." 

"  You  don't  surprise  me — I've  heard  of 
you,"  replied  the  sheriff  wearily.  "  You  are 
the  man  who  killed  Tamale  Jose,  whom  I 
hunted  for  unceasingly.  I  found  him  when 
you  had  left  and  I  got  the  reward.  Come 
again  some  time  and  I'll  divide  with  you ;  two 
hundred  and  fifty  dollars,"  he  added  craftily. 

"  I  shore  will,  but  I  don't  want  no 
money,"  replied  Hopalong  as  he  turned  away. 
"  Adios,  serior,"  he  called  back. 

"  Adios,"  replied  the  sheriff  as  he  kicked  a 
nearby  door  for  assistance. 

The  cow-pony  tied  itself  up  in  knots  as  it 
pounded  down  the  street  toward  the  trail,  and 
although  he  was  fired  on  he  swung  into  the 
dusty  trail  with  a  song  on  his  lips.  Several 
hours  later  he  stood  dripping  wet  on  the 
American  side  of  the  Rio  Grande  and  shouted 
advice  to  a  score  of  Mexican  cavalrymen  on 
the  opposite  bank.  Then  he  slowly  picked  his 
way  toward  El  Paso  for  a  game  at  Faro 
Dan's. 

123 


BAR  —  20 


The  sheriff  sat  in  his  easy  chair  one  night 
some  three  weeks  later,  gravely  engaged  in 
rolling  a  cigarette.  His  arms  were  practically 
well,  the  wounds  being  in  the  fleshy  parts. 
He  was  a  philosopher  and  was  disposed  to 
take  things  easy,  which  accounted  for  his 
being  in  his  official  position  for  fifteen  years. 
A  gentleman  at  the  core,  he  was  well  educated 
and  had  visited  a  goodly  portion  of  the  world. 
A  book  of  Horace  lay  open  on  his  knees  and 
on  the  table  at  his  side  lay  a  shining  new  re- 
volver, Hopalong  having  carried  off  his  for- 
mer weapon.  He  read  aloud  several  lines  and 
in  reaching  for  a  light  for  his  cigarette  noticed 
the  new  six-shooter.  His  mind  leaped  from 
Horace  to  Hopalong,  and  he  smiled  grimly 
at  the  latter' s  promise  to  call. 

Glancing  up,  his  eyes  fell  on  a  poster  which 
conveyed  the  information  in  Spanish  and  in 
English  that  there  was  offered 


FIVE  HUNDRED  DOLLARS   ($500) 
R  E  W  A  R  D 

For  Hopalong  Cassidy,  of  the  Ranch  Known 
as  the  Bar  -20,  Texas,  U.  S.  A. 

124 


HOPALONG  KEEPS  HIS  WORD 

and  which  gave  a  good  description  of  that 
gentleman. 

Sighing  for  the  five  hundred,  he  again  took 
up  his  book  and  was  lost  in  its  pages  when  he 
heard  a  knock,  rather  low  and  timid.  Wear- 
ily laying  aside  his  reading,  he  strode  to  the 
door,  expecting  to  hear  a  lengthy  complaint 
from  one  of  his  townsmen.  As  he  threw  the 
door  wide  open  the  light  streamed  out  and 
lighted  up  a  revolver  and  behind  it  the  beam- 
ing face  of  a  cowboy,  who  grinned. 

"Well,  I'll  be  damned!"  ejaculated  the 
sheriff,  starting  back  in  amazement. 

"  Don't  say  that,  sheriff;  you've  got  lots  of 
time  to  reform,"  replied  a  humorous  voice. 
"  How's  th'  wings?" 

"Almost  well:  you  were  considerate,"  re- 
sponded the  sheriff. 

"  Let's  go  in — somebody  might  see  me  out 
here  an'  get  into  trouble,"  suggested  the  vis- 
itor, placing  his  foot  on  the  sill. 

"  Certainly — pardon  my  discourtesy,"  said 
the  sheriff.  "  You  see,  I  wasn't  expecting  you 
to-night,"  he  explained,  thinking  of  the  elab- 
orate preparations  that  he  would  have  gone 
125 


BAR  —  20 


to  if  he  had  thought  the  irrepressible  would 
call. 

"  Well,  I  was  down  this  way,  an'  seeing  as 
how  I  had  promised  to  drop  in  I  just  nat- 
churally  dropped,"  replied  Hopalong  as  he 
took  the  chair  proffered  by  his  host. 

After  talking  awhile  on  everything  and 
nothing  the  sheriff  coughed  and  looked  uneas- 
ily at  his  guest. 

"  Mr.  Cassidy,  I  am  sorry  you  called,  for 
I  like  men  of  your  energy  and  courage  and  I 
very  much  dislike  to  arrest  you,"  remarked 
the  sheriff.  "  Of  course  you  understand  that 
you  are  under  arrest,"  he  added  with  anxiety. 

"Who,  me?"  asked  Hopalong  with  a 
rising  inflection. 

"  Most  assuredly,"  breathed  the  sheriff. 

"  Why,  this  is  the  first  time  I  ever  heard 
anything  about  it,"  replied  the  astonished 
cow-puncher.  "  I'm  an  American — don't 
that  make  any  difference?" 

"  Not  in  this  case,  I'm  afraid.  You  see, 
it's  for  manslaughter." 

"Well,  don't  that  beat  th'  devil,  now?" 
said  Hopalong.  He  felt  sorry  that  a  citizen 
126 


HOPALONG  KEEPS  HIS  WORD 

of  the  glorious  United  States  should  be  prey 
for  troublesome  sheriffs,  but  he  was  sure  that 
his  duty  to  Texas  called  upon  him  never  to 
submit  to  arrest  at  the  hands  of  a  Greaser. 
Remembering  the  Alamo,  and  still  behind  his 
Colt,  he  reached  over  and  took  up  the  shining 
weapon  from  the  table  and  snapped  it  open 
on  his  knee.  After  placing  the  cartridges  in 
his  pocket  he  tossed  the  gun  over  on  the  bed 
and,  reaching  inside  his  shirt,  drew  out  an- 
other and  threw  it  after  the  first. 

"That's  yore  gun;  I  forgot  to  leave  it," 
he  said,  apologetically.  "  Anyhow  yu  needs 
two,"  he  added. 

Then  he  glanced  around  the  room,  noticed 
the  poster  and  walked  over  and  read  it.  A 
full  swift  sweep  of  his  gloved  hand  tore  it 
from  its  fastenings  and  crammed  it  under  his 
belt.  The  glimmer  of  anger  in  his  eyes 
gave  way  as  he  realized  that  his  head 
was  worth  a  definite  price,  and  he  smiled 
at  what  the  boys  would  say  when  he  showed 
it  to  them.  Planting  his  feet  far  apart  and 
placing  his  arms  akimbo  he  faced  his  host  in 
grim  defiance. 

127 


BAR  —  20 


"  Got  any  more  of  these  ?  "  he  inquired, 
placing  his  hand  on  the  poster  under  his  belt. 

"  Several/'  replied  the  sheriff. 

*  Trot  'em  out,"  ordered  Hopalong 
shortly. 

The  sheriff  sighed,  stretched  and  went  over 
to  a  shelf,  from  which  he  took  a  bundle  of 
the  articles  in  question.  Turning  slowly  he 
looked  at  the  puncher  and  handed  them  to 
him. 

"  I  reckons  they's  all  over  this  here  town," 
remarked  Hopalong. 

"  They  are,  and  you  may  never  see  Texas 
again." 

"  So  ?  Well,  yu  tell  yore  most  particular 
friends  that  the  job  is  worth  five  thousand, 
and  that  it  will  take  so  many  to  do  it  that 
when  th'  mazuma  is  divided  up  it  won't  buy 
a  meal.  There's  only  one  man  in  this  country 
to-night  that  can  earn  that  money,  an'  that's 
me,"  said  the  puncher.  "  An'  I  don't  need 
it,"  he  added,  smiling. 

"  But  you  are  my  prisoner — you  are  under 
arrest,"  enlightened  the  sheriff,  rolling  an- 
other cigarette.  The  sheriff  spoke  as  if  asking 
128 


HOP  ALONG  KEEPS  HIS  WORD 

a  question.  Never  before  had  five  hundred 
dollars  been  so  close  at  hand  and  yet  so  unob- 
tainable. It  was  like  having  a  check-book  but 
no  bank  account. 

"  I'm  shore  sorry  to  treat  yu  mean,"  re- 
marked Hopalong,  "  but  I  was  paid  a  month 
in  advance  an'  I'll  have  to  go  back  an'  earn  it." 

'  You  can — if  you  say  that  you  will  re- 
turn," replied  the  sheriff  tentatively.  The 
sheriff  meant  what  he  said  and  for  the  mo- 
ment had  forgotten  that  he  was  powerless 
and  was  not  the  one  to  make  terms. 

Hopalong  was  amazed  and  for  a  time  his 
ideas  of  Greasers  staggered  under  the  blow. 
Then  he  smiled  sympathetically  as  he  realized 
that  he  faced  a  white  man. 

"  Never  like  to  promise  nothin',"  he  re- 
plied. "  I  might  get  plugged,  or  something 
might  happen  that  wouldn't  let  me."  Then 
his  face  lighted  up  as  a  thought  came  to  him. 
"  Say,  I'll  cut  th'  cards  with  yu  to  see  if  I 
comes  back  or  not." 

The  sheriff  leaned  back  and  gazed  at  the 
cool  youngster  before  him.  A  smile  of  satis- 
faction, partly  at  the  self-reliance  of  his  guest 
129 


BAR  —  20 


and  partly  at  the  novelty  of  his  situation, 
spread  over  his  face.  He  reached  for  a  pack 
of  Mexican  cards  and  laughed.  "  God ! 
You're  a  cool  one — I'll  do  it.  What  do  you 
call?" 

"  Red,"  answered  Hopalong. 

The  sheriff  slowly  raised  his  hand  and 
revealed  the  ace  of  hearts. 

Hopalong  leaned  back  and  laughed,  at  the 
same  time  taking  from  his  pocket  the  six 
extracted  cartridges.  Arising  and  going  over 
to  the  bed  he  slipped  them  in  the  chambers  of 
the  new  gun  and  then  placed  the  loaded 
weapon  at  the  sheriff's  elbow. 

"Well,  I  reckon  I'll  amble,  sheriff,"  he  said 
as  he  opened  the  door.  "  If  yu  ever  sifts  up 
my  way  drop  in  an'  see  me — th'  boys  '11  give 
yu  a  good  time." 

"Thanks;  I  will  be  glad  to,"  replied  the 
sheriff.  "  You'll  take  your  pitcher  to  the  well 
once  too  often  some  day,  my  friend.  This 
courtesy,"  glancing  at  the  restored  revolver, 
"  might  have  cost  you  dearly." 

"  Shoo !     I  did  that  once  an'  th'  feller  tried 
to  use  it,"  replied  the  cowbow  as  he  backed 
130 


HOP  ALONG  KEEPS  HIS  WORD 

through  the  door.  "  Some  people  are  awfully 
careless, "  he  added.  "  So  long " 

"  So  long,"  replied  the  sheriff,  wondering 
what  sort  of  a  man  he  had  been  entertaining. 

The  door  closed  softly  and  soon  after  a 
joyous  whoop  floated  in  from  the  street.  The 
sheriff  toyed  with  the  new  gun  and  listened  to 
the  low  caress  of  a  distant  guitar. 

"Well,  don't  that  beat  hell?"  he  ejacu- 
lated. 


CHAPTER    IX 

THE   ADVENT   OF   McALLISTER 

THE  blazing  sun  shone  pitilessly  on  an 
arid  plain  which  was  spotted  with  dust- 
gray  clumps  of  mesquite  and  thorny  chapar- 
ral. Basking  in  the  burning  sand  and  alkali 
lay  several  Gila  monsters,  which  raised  their 
heads  and  hissed  with  wide-open  jaws  as  sev- 
eral faint,  whip-like  reports  echoed  flatly  over 
the  desolate  plain,  showing  that  even  they  had 
learned  that  danger  was  associated  with  such 
sounds. 

Off  to  the  north  there  became  visible  a 
cloud  of  dust  and  at  intervals  something 
swayed  in  it,  something  that  rose  and  fell  and 
then  became  hidden  again.  Out  of  that  cloud 
came  sharp,  splitting  sounds,  which  were 
faintly  responded  to  by  another  and  larger 
cloud  in  its  rear.  As  it  came  nearer  and 
finally  swept  past,  the  Gilas,  to  their  terror, 
132 


THE  ADVENT  OF  McALLISTER 

saw  a  madly  pounding  horse,  and  it  carried  a 
man.  The  latter  turned  in  his  saddle  and 
raised  a  gun  to  his  shoulder  and  the  thunder 
that  issued  from  it  caused  the  creeping  audi- 
ence to  throw  up  their  tails  in  sudden  panic 
and  bury  themselves  out  of  sight  in  the  sand. 
The  horse  was  only  a  broncho,  its  sides  cov- 
ered with  hideous  yellow  spots,  and  on  its 
near  flank  was  a  peculiar  scar,  the  brand. 
Foam  flecked  from  its  crimsoned  jaws  and 
found  a  resting  place  on  its  sides  and  on  the 
hairy  chaps  of  its  rider.  Sweat  rolled  and 
streamed  from  its  heaving  flanks  and  was 
greedily  sucked  up  by  the  drought-cursed 
alkali.  Close  to  the  rider's  knee  a  bloody 
furrow  ran  forward  and  one  of  the  broncho's 
ears  was  torn  and  limp.  The  broncho  was 
doing  its  best — it  could  run  at  that  pace  until 
it  dropped  dead.  Every  ounce  of  strength  it 
possessed  was  put  forth  to  bring  those  hind 
hoofs  well  in  front  of  the  forward  ones  and 
to  send  them  pushing  the  sand  behind  in 
streaming  clouds.  The  horse  had  done  this 
same  thing  many  times — when  would  its  mas- 
ter learn  sense  ? 

133 


BAR  —  20 


The  man  was  typical  in  appearance  with 
many  of  that  broad  land.  Lithe,  sinewy  and 
bronzed  by  hard  riding  and  hot  suns,  he  sat 
in  his  Cheyenne  saddle  like  a  centaur,  all  his 
weight  on  the  heavy,  leather-guarded  stirrups, 
his  body  rising  in  one  magnificent  straight 
line.  A  bleached  moustache  hid  the  thin  lips, 
and  a  gray  sombrero  threw  a  heavy  shadow 
across  his  eyes.  Around  his  neck  and  over 
his  open,  blue  flannel  shirt  lay  loosely  a 
knotted  silk  kerchief,  and  on  his  thighs  a  pair 
of  open-flapped  holsters  swung  uneasily  with 
their  ivory  handled  burdens.  He  turned 
abruptly,  raised  his  gun  to  his  shoulder  and 
fired,  then  he  laughed  recklessly  and  patted 
his  mount,  which  responded  to  the  confident 
caress  by  lying  flatter  to  the  earth  in  a  spurt 
of  heart-breaking  speed. 

"  I'll  show  'em  who  they're  trailin'.  This 
is  th'  second  time  I've  started  for  Muddy 
Wells,  an'  I'm  goin'  to  git  there,  too,  for  all 
th'  Apaches  out  of  Hades !  " 

To  the  south  another  cloud  of  dust  rapidly 
approached  and  the  rider  scanned  it  closely, 
for  it  was  directly  in  his  path.  As  he  watched 
134 


THE  ADVENT  OF  McALLISTER 

it  he  saw  something  wave  and  it  was  a  som- 
brero !  Shortly  afterward  a  real  cowboy  yell 
reached  his  ears.  He  grinned  and  slid  an- 
other cartridge  in  the  greasy,  smoking  barrel 
of  the  Sharp's  and  fired  again  at  the  cloud  in 
his  rear.  Some  few  minutes  later  a  whoop- 
ing, bunched  crowd  of  madly  riding  cowboys 
thundered  past  him  and  he  was  recognized. 

"  Hullo,  Frenchy !  "  yelled  the  nearest  one. 
"Comin'  back?" 

"  Come  on,  McAllister!  "  shouted  another; 
"  we'll  give  'em  blazes !  "  In  response  the 
straining  broncho  suddenly  stiffened,  bunched 
and  slid  on  its  haunches,  wheeled  and  retraced 
its  course.  The  rear  cloud  suddenly  scattered 
into  many  smaller  ones  and  all  swept  off  to 
the  east.  The  rescuing  band  overtook  them 
and,  several  hours  later,  when  seated  around 
a  table  in  Tom  Lee's  saloon,  Muddy  Wells, 
a  count  was  taken  of  them,  which  was  pleas- 
ing in  its  facts. 

"  We  was  huntin'  coyotes  when  we  saw 
yu,"  said  a  smiling  puncher  who  was  known 
as  Salvation  Carroll  chiefly  because  he  wasn't. 

"  Yep  !   They've  been  stalkin'  Tom's  chick- 


BAR  —  20 


ens,"  supplied  Waffles,  the  champion  poker 
player  of  the  outfit.  Tom  Lee's  chickens 
could  whip  anything  of  their  kind  for  miles 
around  and  were  reverenced  accordingly. 

"Sho!  Is  that  so?"  asked  Frenchy  with 
mild  incredulity,  such  a  state  of  affairs  being 
deplorable. 

"  She  shore  is!  "  answered  Tex  Le  Blanc, 
and  then,  as  an  afterthought,  he  added, 
"  Where'd  yu  hit  th'  War-whoops?  " 

"  'Bout  four  hours  back.  This  here's  th' 
second  time  I've  headed  for  this  place — last 
time  they  chased  me  to  Las  Cruces." 

"  That  so?  "  asked  Bigfoot  Baker,  a  giant. 
"  Ain't  they  allus  interfering  now?  Anyhow, 
they're  better  'n  coyotes." 

"  They  was  purty  well  heeled,"  suggested 
Tex,  glancing  at  a  bunch  of  repeating  Win- 
chesters of  late  model  which  lay  stacked  in  a 
corner.  "  Charley  here  said  he  thought  they 
was  from  th'  way  yore  cayuse  looked,  didn't 
yu,  Charley?"  Charley  nodded  and  filled 
his  pipe. 

"  Tears  like  a  feller  can't  amble  around 

136 


THE  ADVENT  OF  McALLISTER 

much  nowadays  without  havin'  to  fight," 
grumbled  Lefty  Allen,  who  usually  went  out 
of  his  way  hunting  up  trouble. 

"  We're  goin'  to  th'  Hills  as  soon  as  our 
cookie  turns  up,"  volunteered  Tenspot  Davis, 
looking  inquiringly  at  Frenchy.  "  Heard  any 
more  news?  " 

"  Nope.  Same  old  story — lots  of  gold. 
Shucks,  I've  bit  on  so  many  of  them  rumors 
that  they  don't  feaze  me  no  more.  One  man 
who  don't  know  nothin'  about  prospectin' 
goes  an*  stumbles  over  a  fortune  an'  those 
who  know  it  from  A  to  Izzard  goes  'round 
pullin'  in  their  belts." 

"  We  don't  pull  in  no  belts — we  knows  just 
where  to  look,  don't  we,  Tenspot?  "  remarked 
Tex,  looking  very  wise. 

"  Ya-as  we  do,"  answered  Tenspot,  "  if  yu 
hasn't  dreamed  about  it,  we  do." 

u  Yu  wait;  I  wasn't  dreamin',  none  what- 
ever," assured  Tex.  "  I  saw  it!  " 

"  Ya-as,  I  saw  it  too  onct,"  replied  Frenchy 
with  sarcasm.  "  Went  and  lugged  fifty  pound 
of  it  all  th'  way  to  th'  assay  office — took  me 
137 


BAR  —  20 


two  days;  an'  that  there  four-eyed  cuss  looks 
at  it  and  snickers.  Then  he  takes  me  by  th' 
arm  an'  leads  me  to  th'  window.  *  See  that 
pile,  my  friend?  That's  all  like  yourn,"  sez 
he.  *  It's  worth  about  one  simoleon  a  ton  at 
th'  coast.  They  use  it  for  ballast.'  ' 

"  Aw!  But  this  what  /  saw  was  gold!" 
exploded  Tex. 

"  So  was  mine,  for  a  while !  "  laughed 
Frenchy,  nodding  to  the  bartender  for  an- 
other round. 

"  Well,  we're  tired  of  punchin'  cows !  Ride 
sixteen  hours  a  day,  year  in  an'  year  out,  an' 
what  do  we  get?  Fifty  a  month  an'  no  chance 
to  spend  it,  an'  grub  that  'd  make  a  coyote 
sniffle !  I'm  for  a  vacation,  an'  if  I  goes 
broke,  why,  I'll  punch  again!  "  asserted  Waf- 
fles, the  foreman,  thus  revealing  the  real  pur- 
pose of  the  trip. 

"  What  'd  yore  boss  say?  "  asked  Frenchy. 

"  Whoop  !  What  didn't  he  say !  Honest, 
I  never  thought  he  had  it  in  him.  It  was  fine. 
He  cussed  an  hour  frontways  an'  then  trailed 
back  on  a  dead  gallop,  with  us  a-laughin'  fit 
to  bust.  Then  he  rustles  for  his  gun  an'  we 

138 


THE  ADVENT  OF  McALLISTER 

rustles  for  town,"  answered  Waffles,  laughing 
at  his  remembrance  of  it. 

As  Frenchy  was  about  to  reply  his  som- 
brero was  snatched  from  his  head  and  disap- 
peared. If  he  "  got  mad  "  he  was  to  be 
regarded  as  not  sufficiently  well  acquainted 
for  banter  and  he  was  at  once  in  hot  water; 
if  he  took  it  good-naturedly  he  was  one  of  the 
crowd  in  spirit;  but  in  either  case  he  didn't 
get  his  hat  without  begging  or  fighting  for  it. 
This  was  a  recognized  custom  among  the 
O-Bar-O  outfit  and  was  not  intended  as  an 
insult. 

Frenchy  grabbed  at  the  empty  air  and 
arose.  Punching  Lefty  playfully  in  the  ribs 
he  passed  his  hands  behind  that  person's  back. 
Not  finding  the  lost  head-gear  he  laughed 
and,  tripping  Lefty  up,  fell  with  him  and, 
reaching  up  on  the  table  for  his  glass,  poured 
the  contents  down  Lefty's  back  and  arose. 

"  Yu  son-of-a-gun !  "  indignantly  wailed 
that  unfortunate.  "  Gee,  it  feels  funny,"  he 
added,  grinning  as  he  pulled  the  wet  shirt 
away  from  his  spine. 

"Well,  I've  got  to  be  amblin',"  said 
139 


BAR  —  20 


Frenchy,  totally  ignoring  the  loss  of  his  hat. 
"  Coin'  down  to  Buckskin,"  he  offered,  and 
then  asked,  "  When's  yore  cook  comin'  ?  " 

"  Day  after  to-morrow,  if  he  don't  get 
loaded,"  replied  Tex. 

"Who  is  he?" 

"  A  one-eyed  Greaser — Quiensabe  An- 
tonio." 

"  I  used  to  know  him.  He's  a  h — 1  of  a 
cook.  Dished  up  th'  grub  one  season  when 
I  was  punchin'  for  th'  Tin-Cup  up  in  Mon- 
tana," replied  Frenchy. 

"  Oh,  he  kin  cook  now,  all  right,"  replied 
Waffles. 

"  That's  about  all  he  can  cook.  Useter 
wash  his  knives  in  th'  coffee  pot  an'  blow  on 
th'  tins.  I  chased  him  a  mile  one  night  for 
leavin'  sand  in  th'  skillet.  Yu  can  have  him — 
I  don't  envy  yu  none  whatever." 

"  He  don't  sand  no  skillet  when  little  Ten- 
spot's  around,"  assured  that  person,  slapping 
his  holster.  "  Does  he,  Lefty?  " 

"  If  he  does,  yu  oughter  be  lynched,"  con- 
soled Lefty. 

"  Well,  so  long,"  remarked  Frenchy,  rid- 
140 


THE  ADVENT  OF  McALLISTER 

ing  off  to  a  small  store,  where  he  bought  a 
cheap  sombrero. 

Frenchy  was  a  jack-of-all-trades,  having 
been  cow-puncher,  prospector,  proprietor  of 
a  "  hotel "  in  Albuquerque,  foreman  of  a 
ranch,  sheriff,  and  at  one  time  had  played 
angel  to  a  venturesome  but  poor  show  troupe. 
Besides  his  versatility  he  was  well  known  as 
the  man  who  took  the  stage  through  the  Sioux 
country  when  no  one  else  volunteered.  He 
could  shoot  with  the  best,  but  his  one  pride 
was  the  brand  of  poker  he  handed  out.  Fur- 
thermore, he  had  never  been  known  to  take 
an  unjust  advantage  over  any  man  and,  on  the 
contrary,  had  frequently  voluntarily  handi- 
capped himself  to  make  the  event  more  inter- 
esting. But  he  must  not  be  classed  as  being 
hampered  with  self-restraint. 

His  reasons  for  making  this  trip  were  two- 
fold: he  wished  to  see  Buck  Peters,  the  fore- 
man of  the  Bar— 20  outfit,  as  he  and  Buck  had 
punched  cows  together  twenty  years  before 
and  were  firm  friends;  the  other  was  that  he 
wished  to  get  square  with  Hopalong  Cassidy, 
who  had  decisively  cleaned  him  out  the  year 
141 


BAR  — 20 


before  at  poker.  Hopalong  played  either 
in  great  good  luck  or  the  contrary,  while 
Frenchy  played  an  even,  consistent  game  and 
usually  left  off  richer  than  when  he  began, 
and  this  decisive  defeat  bothered  him  more 
than  he  would  admit,  even  to  himself. 

The  round-up  season  was  at  hand  and  the 
Bar— 20  was  short  of  ropers,  the  rumors  of 
fresh  gold  discoveries  in  the  Black  Hills  hav- 
ing drawn  all  the  more  restless  men  north. 
The  outfit  also  had  a  slight  touch  of  the  gold 
fever,  and  only  their  peculiar  loyalty  to  the 
ranch  and  the  assurance  of  the  foreman  that 
when  the  work  was  over  he  would  accompany 
them,  kept  them  from  joining  the  rush  of 
those  who  desired  sudden  and  much  wealth 
as  the  necessary  preliminary  of  painting  some 
cow  town  in  all  the  "  bang  up  "  style  such  an 
event  would  call  for.  Therefore  they  had 
been  given  orders  to  secure  the  required  assist- 
ance, and  they  intended  to  do  so,  and  were 
prepared  to  kidnap,  if  necessary,  for  the 
glamour  of  wealth  and  the  hilarity  of  the 
vacation  made  the  hours  falter  in  their  speed. 

As  Frenchy  leaned  back  in  his  chair  in 
142 


THE  ADVENT  OF  McALLISTER 

Cowan's  saloon,  Buckskin,  early  the  next 
morning,  planning  to  get  revenge  on  Hopa- 
long  and  then  to  recover  his  sombrero,  he 
heard  a  medley  of  yells  and  whoops  and  soon 
the  door  flew  open  before  the  strenuous  and 
concentrated  entry  of  a  mass  of  twisting  and 
kicking  arms  and  legs,  which  magically  found 
their  respective  owners  and  reverted  to  the 
established  order  of  things.  When  the  alkali 
dust  had  thinned  he  saw  seven  cow-punchers 
sitting  on  the  prostrate  form  of  another,  who 
was  earnestly  engaged  in  trying  to  push 
Johnny  Nelson's  head  out  in  the  street  with 
one  foot  as  he  voiced  his  lucid  opinion  of 
things  in  general  and  the  seven  in  particular. 
After  Red  Connors  had  been  stabbed  in  the 
back  several  times  by  the  victim's  energetic 
elbow  he  ran  out  of  the  room  and  presently 
returned  with  a  pleased  expression  and  a  som- 
brero full  of  water,  his  finger  plugging  an 
old  bullet  hole  in  the  crown. 

"  Is  he  any  better,  Buck?  "  anxiously  in- 
quired the  man  with  the  reservoir. 

"  About  a  dollar's  worth,"  replied  the  fore- 
man. "  Jest  put  a  little  right  here,"  he 
143 


BAR  —  20 


drawled  as  he  pulled  back  the  collar  of  the 
unfortunate's  shirt. 

"Ow!  wow!  WOW!"  wailed  the  recip- 
ient, heaving  and  straining.  The  unengaged 
leg  was  suddenly  wrested  loose,  and  as  it  shot 
up  and  out  Billy  Williams,  with  his  pessimism 
aroused  to  a  blue-ribbon  pitch,  sat  down  forci- 
bly in  an  adjacent  part  of  the  room,  from 
where  he  lectured  between  gasps  on  the  follies 
of  mankind  and  the  attributes  of  army  mules. 

Red  tiptoed  around  the  squirming  bunch, 
looking  for  an  opening,  his  pleased  expression 
now  having  added  a  grin. 

"  Seems  to  be  gittin'  violent-like,"  he  solilo- 
quized, as  he  aimed  a  stream  at  Hopalong's 
ear,  which  showed  for  a  second  as  Pete  Wil- 
son strove  for  a  half-nelson,  and  he  managed 
to  include  Johnny  and  Pete  in  his  effort. 

Several  minutes  later,  when  the  storm  had 
subsided,  the  woeful  crowd  enthusiastically 
urged  Hopalong  to  the  bar,  where  he 
"  bought." 

"  Of  all  th'  ornery  outfits  I  ever  saw — " 
began  the  man  at  the  table,  grinning  from  ear 
to  ear  at  the  spectacle  he  had  just  witnessed. 
144 


THE  ADVENT  OF  McALLISTER 

"  Why,  hullo,  Frenchy !  Glad  to  see  yu, 
yu  old  son-of-a-gun !  What's  th'  news  from 
th'  Hills?"  shouted  Hopalong. 

u  Rather  locoed,  an'  there's  a  locoed  gang 
that's  headin'  that  way.  Coin'  up?"  he 
asked. 

"  Shore,  after  round-up.  Seen  any  punch- 
ers trailin'  around  loose?  " 

"  Ya-as,"  drawled  Frenchy,  delving  into 
the  possibilities  suddenly  opened  to  him  and 
determining  to  utilize  to  the  fullest  extent  the 
opportunity  that  had  come  to  him  unsought. 
"  There's  nine  over  to  Muddy  Wells  that  yu 
might  git  if  yu  wants  them  bad  enough. 
They've  got  a  sombrero  of  mine,"  he  added 
deprecatingly. 

"Nine!  Twisted  Jerusalem,  Buck!  Nine 
whole  cow-punchers  a-pinin'  for  work," 
he  shouted,  but  then  added  thoughtfully, 
"  Mebby  they's  engaged,"  it  being  one  of  the 
courtesies  of  the  land  not  to  take  another 
man's  help. 

"  Nope.  They've  stampeded  for  th'  Hills 
an'  left  their  boss  all  alone,"  replied  Frenchy, 
well  knowing  that  such  desertion  would  not, 


BAR  —  20 


in  the  minds  of  the  Bar— 20  men,  add  any 
merits  to  the  case  of  the  distant  outfit. 

"  Th'  sons-of-guns,"  said  Hopalong,  "  let's 
go  an'  get  'em,"  he  suggested,  turning  to 
Buck,  who  nodded  a  smiling  assent. 

"  Oh,  what's  the  hurry?  "  asked  Frenchy, 
seeing  his  projected  game  slipping  away  into 
the  uncertain  future  and  happy  in  the  thought 
that  he  would  be  avenged  on  the  O-Bar-O 
outfit.  "  They'll  be  there  till  to-morrow  noon 
— they's  waitin'  for  their  cookie,  who's  goin' 
with  them." 

"  A  cook!  A  cook!  Oh,  joy,  a  cook!  " 
exulted  Johnny,  not  for  one  instant  doubting 
Buck's  ability  to  capture  the  whole  outfit  and 
seeing  a  whirl  of  excitement  in  the  effort. 

u  Anybody  we  knows?"  inquired  Skinny 
Thompson. 

"  Shore.  Tenspot  Davis,  Waffles,  Salva- 
tion Carroll,  Bigfoot  Baker,  Charley  Lane, 
Lefty  Allen,  Kid  Morris,  Curley  Tate  an' 
Tex  Le  Blanc,"  responded  Frenchy. 

"  Umm-m.  Might  as  well  rope  a  bliz- 
zard," grumbled  Billy.  "  Might  as  well  try 
to  git  th'  Seventh  Cavalry.  We'll  have  a 
146 


THE  ADVENT  OF  McALLISTER 

pious  time  corralling  that  bunch.  Them's  th' 
fellows  that  hit  that  bunch  of  inquirin'  Crow 
braves  that  time  up  in  th'  Bad  Lands  an'  then 
said  by-bye  to  th'  Ninth." 

"  Aw,  shut  up !  They's  only  two  that's 
very  much,  an'  Buck  an'  Hopalong  can  sing 
'em  to  sleep,"  interposed  Johnny,  afraid  that 
the  expedition  would  fall  through. 

"  How  about  Curley  and  Tex?"  pugna- 
ciously asked  Billy. 

"  Huh,  jest  because  they  buffaloed  yu  over 
to  Las  Vegas  yu  needn't  think  they's  danger- 
ous. Salvation  an'  Tenspot  are  th'  only  ones 
who  can  shoot,"  stoutly  maintained  Johnny. 

"  Here  yu,  get  mum,"  ordered  Buck  to  the 
pair.  "  When  this  outfit  goes  after  anything 
it  generally  gets  it.  All  in  favor  of  kidnappin' 
that  outfit  signify  th'  same  by  kickin'  Billy," 
whereupon  Bill  swore. 

"Do  yu  want  yore  hat?"  asked  Buck, 
turning  to  Frenchy. 

"  I  shore  do,"  answered  that  individual. 

"If  yu  helps  us  at  th'  round-up  we'll  get 
it  for  yu.  Fifty  a  month  an'  grub,"  offered 
the  foreman. 

H7 


BAR  —  20 


"  O.  K.,"  replied  Frenchy,  anxious  to  even 
matters. 

Buck  looked  at  his  watch.  "  Seven  o'clock 
— we  ought  to  get  there  by  five  if  we  relays 
at  th'  Barred-Horseshoe.  Come  on." 

"  How  are  we  goin'  to  git  them?  "  asked 
Billy. 

"  Yu  leave  that  to  me,  son.  Hopalong  an' 
Frenchy  '11  tend  to  that  part  of  it,"  replied 
Buck,  making  for  his  horse  and  swinging  into 
the  saddle,  an  example  which  was  followed  by 
the  others,  including  Frenchy. 

As  they  swung  off  Buck  noticed  the  condi- 
tion of  Frenchy's  mount  and  halted.  '  Yu 
take  that  cayuse  back  an'  get  Cowan's,"  he 
ordered. 

u  That  cayuse  is  good  for  Cheyenne — she 
eats  work,  an'  besides  I  wants  my  own," 
laughed  Frenchy. 

"  Yu  must  had  a  reg'lar  picnic  from  th' 
looks  of  that  crease,"  volunteered  Hopalong, 
whose  curiosity  was  mastering  him. 

"  Shoo !  I  had  a  little  argument  with  some 
feather  dusters — th'  O-Bar-O  crowd  cleaned 
them  up." 

148 


THE  ADVENT  OF  McALLISTER 

"  That  so?"  asked  Buck. 

"  Yep!  They  sorter  got  into  th'  habit  of 
chasin'  me  to  Las  Cruces  an'  forgot  to  stop." 

u  How  many  'd  yu  get?"  asked  Lanky 
Smith. 

1  Twelve.  Two  got  away.  I  got  two 
before  th'  crowd  showed  up — that  makes 
fo'teen." 

"  Now  th'  cavalry  '11  be  huntin'  yu," 
croaked  Billy. 

"  Hunt  nothin' !  They  was  in  war-paint — 
think  I  was  a  target? — think  I  was  goin'  to 
call  off  their  shots  for  'em?  " 

They  relayed  at  the  Barred-Horseshoe  and 
went  on  their  way  at  the  same  pace.  Shortly 
after  leaving  the  last-named  ranch  Buck 
turned  to  Frenchy  and  asked,  u  Any  of  that 
outfit  think  they  can  play  poker?  " 

"Shore.     Waffles." 

"  Does  th'  reverend  Mr.  Waffles  think  so 
very  hard?  " 

"  He  shore  does." 

"  Do  th'  rest  of  them  mavericks  think  so 
too?" 

"  They'd  bet  their  shirts  on  him." 
149 


BAR  — 20 


At  this  juncture  all  were  startled  by  a  sud- 
den eruption  from  Billy.  "  Haw !  Haw ! 
Haw !  "  he  roared  as  the  drift  of  Buck's  in- 
tentions struck  him.  "  Haw!  Haw!  Haw!  " 

"  Here,  yu  long-winded  coyote,"  yelled 
Red,  banging  him  over  the  head  with  his  quirt, 
"  If  yu  don't  '  Haw !  Haw !  '  away  from  my 
ear  I'll  make  it  a  Wow !  Wow !  What  d'yu 
mean  ?  Think  I  am  a  echo  cliff  ?  Yu  slab- 
sided  doodle-bug,  yu !  " 

"  G'way,  yu  crimson  topknot,  think  my 
head's  a  hunk  of  quartz  ?  Per  a  plugged  peso 
I'd  strew  yu  all  over  th'  scenery!  "  shouted 
Billy,  feigning  anger  and  rubbing  his  head. 

"  There  ain't  no  scenery  around  here,"  in- 
terposed Lanky.  "  This  here  be-utiful  pros- 
pect is  a  sublime  conception  of  th'  devil." 

"  Easy,  boy!  Them  highfalutin'  words  '11 
give  yu  a  cramp  some  day.  Yu  talk  like  a 
newly-made  sergeant,"  remarked  Skinny. 

"  He  learned  them  words  from  that  sky- 
pilot  over  at  El  Paso,"  volunteered  Hopa- 
long,  winking  at  Red.  "  He  used  to  amble 
down  th'  aisle  afore  the  lights  was  lit  so's  he 
could  get  a  front  seat.  That  was  all  hunky 
150 


THE  ADVENT  OF  McALLISTER 

for  a  while,  but  every  time  he'd  go  out  to 
irrigate,  that  female  organ-wrastler  would 
seem  to  call  th'  music  off  for  his  special  bene- 
fit. So  in  a  month  he'd  sneak  in  an'  freeze 
to  a  chair  by  th'  door,  an'  after  a  while  he'd 
shy  like  blazes  every  time  he  got  within  eye 
range  of  th'  church." 

"  Shore.  But  do  yu  know  what  made  him 
get  religion  all  of  a  sudden?  He  used  to 
hang  around  on  th'  outside  after  th'  joint  let 
out  an'  trail  along  behind  th'  music-slinger, 
lookin'  like  he  didn't  know  what  to  do  with 
his  hands.  Then  when  he  got  woozy  one 
time  she  up  an'  told  him  that  she  had  got  a 
nice  long  letter  from  her  hubby.  Then  Mr. 
Lanky  hit  th'  trail  for  Santa  Fe  so  hard  that 
there  wasn't  hardly  none  of  it  left.  I  didn't 
see  him  for  a  whole  month,"  supplied  Red 
innocently. 

i  Yore  shore  funny,  ain't  yu  ?  "  sarcastically 
grunted  Lanky.  "  Why,  I  can  tell  things  on 
yu  that  'd  make  yu  stand  treat  for  a  year." 

"  I  wouldn't  sneak  off  to  Santa  Fe  an'  cheat 
yu  out  of  them.  Yu  ought  to  be  ashamed  of 
yoreself." 


BAR  —  20 


"  Yah !  "  snorted  the  aggrieved  little  man. 
"  I  had  business  over  to  Santa  Fe !  " 

"  Shore,"  indorsed  Hopalong.  "We've 
all  had  business  over  to  Santa  Fe.  Why, 
about  eight  years  ago  I  had  business " 

"  Choke  up,"  interposed  Red.  "  About 
eight  years  ago  yu  was  washin'  pans  for 
cookie  an'  askin'  me  for  cartridges.  Buck 
used  to  larrup  yu  about  four  times  a  day  eight 
years  ago." 

To  their  roars  of  laughter  Hopalong 
dropped  to  the  rear,  where,  red-faced  and 
quiet,  he  bent  his  thoughts  on  how  to  get 
square. 

"  We'll  have  a  pleasant  time  corralling  that 
gang,"  began  Billy  for  the  third  time. 

"  For  heaven's  sake  get  off  that  trail !  " 
replied  Lanky.  "  We  ain't  goin'  to  hold  'em 
up.  De-plomacy's  th'  game." 

Billy  looked  dubious  and  said  nothing.  If 
he  hadn't  proven  that  he  was  as  nervy  as  any 
man  in  the  outfit  they  might  have  taken  more 
stock  in  his  grumbling. 

"What's  the  latest  from  Abilene  way?" 
asked  Buck  of  Frenchy. 
152 


THE  ADVENT  OF  McALLISTER 

"  Nothin'  much  'cept  th'  barb-wire  ruc- 
tion," replied  the  recruit. 

"What's  that?"  asked  Red,  glancing  ap- 
prehensively back  at  Hopalong. 

"  Why,  th'  settlers  put  up  barb-wire  fence 
so's  th'  cattle  wouldn't  get  on  their  farms. 
That  would  a  been  all  right,  for  there  wasn't 
much  of  it.  But  some  Britishers  who  own  a 
couple  of  big  ranches  out  there  got  smart  all 
of  a  sudden  an'  strung  wire  all  along  their 
lines.  Punchers  crossin'  th'  country  would 
run  plumb  into  a  fence  an'  would  have  to 
ride  a  day  an'  a  half,  mebby,  afore  they  found 
th'  corner.  Well,  naturally,  when  a  man  has 
been  used  to  ridin'  where  he  blame  pleases 
an'  as  straight  as  he  pleases  he  ain't  goin'  to 
chase  along  a  five-foot  fence  to  'Frisco  when 
he  wants  to  get  to  Waco.  So  th'  punchers 
got  to  totin'  wire-snips,  an'  when  they  runs  up 
agin  a  fence  they  cuts  down  half  a  mile  or  so. 
Sometimes  they'd  tie  their  ropes  to  a  strand 
an'  pull  off  a  couple  of  miles  an'  then  go  back 
after  th'  rest.  Th'  ranch  bosses  sent  out  men 
to  watch  th'  fences  an'  told  'em  to  shoot  any 
festive  puncher  that  monkeyed  with  th'  hard- 
153 


BAR  —  20 


ware.  Well,  yu  know  what  happens  when  a 
puncher  gets  shot  at." 

"  When  fences  grow  in  Texas  there'll  be 
th'  devil  to  pay,"  said  Buck.  He  hated  to 
think  that  some  day  the  freedom  of  the  range 
would  be  annulled,  for  he  knew  that  it  would 
be  the  first  blow  against  the  cowboys'  occupa- 
tion. When  a  man's  cattle  couldn't  spread 
out  all  over  the  land  he  wouldn't  have  to  keep 
so  many  men.  Farms  would  spring  up  and 
the  sun  of  the  free-and-easy  cowboy  would 
slowly  set. 

"  I  reckons  th'  cutters  are  classed  th'  same 
as  rustlers,"  remarked  Red  with  a  gleam  of 
temper. 

"  By  th'  owners,  but  not  by  th'  punchers; 
an'  it's  th'  punchers  that  count,"  replied 
Frenchy. 

"  Well,  we'll  give  them  a  fight,"  interposed 
Hopalong,  riding  up.  "  When  it  gets  so  I 
can't  go  where  I  please  I'll  start  on  th'  war- 
path. I  won't  buck  the  cavalry,  but  I'll  keep 
it  busy  huntin'  for  me  an'  I'll  have  time  to 
'tend  to  th'  wire-fence  men,  too.  Why,  we'll 
be  told  we  can't  tote  our  guns !  " 

"  They're  sayin'  that  now,"  replied 
154 


THE  ADVENT  OF  McALLISTER 

Frenchy.  "  Up  in  Topeka,  Smith,  who's  now 
marshal,  makes  yu  leave  'em  with  th'  bar- 
tenders." 

"  I'd  like  to  see  any  two-laigged  cuss  get 
my  guns  if  I  didn't  want  him  to !  "  began 
Hopalong,  indignant  at  the  idea. 

"  Easy,  son,"  cautioned  Buck.  "  Yu  would 
do  what  th'  rest  did  because  yu  are  a  square 
man.  I'm  about  as  hard-headed  a  puncher  as 
ever  straddled  leather  an'  I've  had  to  use  my 
guns  purty  considerable,  but  I  reckons  if  any 
decent  marshal  asked  me  to  cache  them  in  a 
decent  way,  why,  I'd  do  it.  An'  let  me  brand 
somethin'  on  yore  mind — I've  heard  of  Smith 
of  Topeka,  an'  he's  mighty  nifty  with  his 
hands.  He  don't  stand  off  an'  tell  yu  to 
unload  yore  lead-ranch,  but  he  ambles  up  close 
an'  taps  yu  on  yore  shirt;  if  yu  makes  a  gun- 
play he  naturally  knocks  yu  clean  across  th' 
room  an'  unloads  yu  afore  yu  gets  yore  senses 
back.  He  weighs  about  a  hundred  an'  eighty 
an'  he's  shore  got  sand  to  burn." 

"  Yah !  When  I  makes  a  gun  play  she 
plays!  I'd  look  nice  in  Abilene  or  Paso  or 
Albuquerque  without  my  guns,  wouldn't  I? 
Just  because  I  totes  them  in  plain  sight  I've 

155 


BAR  — 20 


got  to  hand  'em  over  to  some  liquor-wrastler  ? 
I  reckons  not !  Some  hip-pocket  skunk  would 
plug  me  afore  I  could  wink.  I'd  shore  look 
nice  loping  around  a  keno  layout  without  my 
guns,  in  th'  same  town  with  some  cuss  huntin' 
me,  wouldn't  I?  A  whole  lot  of  good  a  mar- 
shal would  a  done  Jimmy,  an'  didn't  Harris 
get  his  from  a  cur  in  th'  dark?"  shouted 
Hopalong,  angered  by  the  prospect. 

"  We're  talkin'  about  Topeka,  where 
everybody  has  to  hang  up  their  guns,"  replied 
Buck.  "  An'  there's  th'  law " 

"  To  blazes  with  th'  law !  "  whooped  Hop- 
along  in  Red's  ear  as  he  unfastened  the  cinch 
of  Red's  saddle  and  at  the  same  time  stabbing 
that  unfortunate's  mount  with  his  spurs, 
thereby  causing  a  hasty  separation  of  the  two. 
When  Red  had  picked  himself  up  and  things 
had  quieted  down  again  the  subject  was 
changed,  and  several  hours  later  they  rode 
into  Muddy  Wells,  a  town  with  a  little  more 
excuse  for  its  existence  than  Buckskin.  The 
wells  were  in  an  arid  valley  west  of  Guada- 
loupe  Pass,  and  were  not  only  muddy  but 
more  or  less  alkaline. 


CHAPTER    X 

PEACE   HATH    ITS    VICTORIES 

AS  they  neared  the  central  group  of  build- 
ings they  heard  a  hilarious  and  assertive 
song  which  sprang  from  the  door  and  win- 
dows of  the  main  saloon.  It  was  in  jig  time, 
rollicking  and  boisterous,  but  the  words  had 
evidently  been  improvised  for  the  occasion, 
as  they  clashed  immediately  with  those  which 
sprang  to  the  minds  of  the  outfit,  although 
they  could  not  be  clearly  distinguished.  As 
they  approached  nearer  and  finally  dis- 
mounted, however,  the  words  became  recog- 
nizable and  the  visitors  were  at  once  placed 
in  harmony  with  the  air  of  jovial  recklessness 
by  the  roaring  of  the  verses  and  the  stamping 
of  the  time. 


Oh  we're  red-hot  cow-punchers  playin'  on  our  luck, 
An*  there  ain't  a  proposition  that  we  won't  buck: 
From  sunrise  to  sunset  we've  ridden  on  the  range, 
But  now  we're  off  for  a  howlin'  change. 

157 


BAR  —  20 


Chorus. 

Laugh  a  little,  sing  a  little,  all  th'  day; 
Play  a  little,  drink  a  little — we  can  pay; 
Ride  a  little,  dig  a  little  an'  rich  we'll  grow. 
Oh,  we're  that  bunch  from  th'  O-Bar-O! 

Oh,  there  was  a  little  tenderfoot  an'  he  had  a  little  gun, 
An'  th'  gun  an'  him  went  a-trailin'  up  some  fun. 
They  ambles  up  to  Santa  Fe  to  find  a  quiet  game, 
An'  now  they're  planted  with  some  more  of  th'  same  ! 

As  Hopalong,  followed  by  the  others, 
pushed  open  the  door  and  entered  he  took  up 
the  chorus  with  all  the  power  of  Texan  lungs 
and  even  Billy  joined  in.  The  sight  that  met 
their  eyes  was  typical  of  the  men  and  the 
mood  and  the  place.  Leaning  along  the  walls, 
lounging  on  the  table  and  straddling  chairs 
with  their  forearms  crossed  on  the  backs  were 
nine  cowboys,  ranging  from  old  twenty  to 
young  fifty  in  years,  and  all  were  shouting 
the  song  and  keeping  time  with  their  hands 
and  feet.  In  the  center  of  the  room  was  a 
large  man  dancing  a  fair  buck-and-wing  to 
the  time  so  uproariously  set  by  his  compan- 
ions. Hatless,  neck-kerchief  loose,  holsters 
flapping,  chaps  rippling  out  and  close,  spurs 
clinking  and  perspiration  streaming  from  his 


PEACE  HATH  ITS  VICTORIES 

tanned  face,  danced  Bigfoot  Baker  as  though 
his  life  depended  on  speed  and  noise.  Bottles 
shook  and  the  air  was  fogged  with  smoke  and 
dust.  Suddenly,  his  belt  slipping  and  letting 
his  chaps  fall  around  his  ankles,  he  tripped 
and  sat  down  heavily.  Gasping  for  breath, 
he  held  out  his  hand  and  received  a  huge  plug 
of  tobacco,  for  Bigfoot  had  won  a  contest. 

Shouts  of  greeting  were  hurled  at  the  new- 
comers and  many  questions  were  fired  at  them 
regarding  "  th'  latest  from  th>  Hills."  Waf- 
fles made  a  rush  for  Hopalong,  but  fell  over 
Bigfoot's  feet  and  all  three  were  piled  up  in  a 
heap.  All  were  beaming  with  good  nature, 
for  they  were  as  so  many  schoolboys  playing 
truant.  Prosaic  cow-punching  was  relegated 
to  the  rear  and  they  looked  eagerly  forward 
to  their  several  missions.  Frenchy  told  of 
the  barb-wire  fence  war  and  of  the  new  regu- 
lations of  "  Smith  of  Topeka "  regarding 
cow-punchers'  guns,  and  from  the  caustic  re- 
marks explosively  given  it  was  plain  to  be 
seen  what  a  wire  fence  could  expect,  should 
one  be  met  with,  and  there  were  many  imag- 
inary Smiths  put  hors  de  combat. 


BAR  — 20 


Kid  Morris,  after  vainly  trying  to  slip  a 
blue-bottle  fly  inside  of  Hopalong's  shirt,  gave 
it  up  and  slammed  his  hand  on  Hopalong's 
back  instead,  crying :  "  Well,  I'll  be  dog- 
goned  if  here  ain't  Hopalong!  How's  th' 
missus  an'  th'  deacon  an'  all  th'  folks  to  hum  ? 
I  hears  yu  an'  Frenchy's  reg'lar  poker  fiends !" 

"  Oh,  we  plays  onct  in  a  while,  but  we  don't 
want  none  of  yore  dust.  Yu'll  shore  need  it 
all  afore  th'  Hills  get  through  with  yu," 
laughingly  replied  Hopalong. 

"  Oh,  yore  shore  kind !  But  I  was  a  sort  of 
reckonin'  that  we  needs  some  more.  Perfes- 
ser  P.  D.  Q.  Waffles  is  our  poker  man  an'  he 
shore  can  clean  out  anything  I  ever  saw. 
Mebby  yu  fellers  feel  reckless-like  an'  would 
like  to  make  a  pool,"  he  cried,  addressing  the 
outfit  of  the  Bar— 20,  "  an'  back  yore  boss  of 
th'  full  house  agin  ourn  ?  " 

Red  turned  slowly  around  and  took  a  full 
minute  in  which  to  size  the  Kid  up.  Then  he 
snorted  and  turned  his  back  again. 

The  Kid  stared  at  him  in  outraged  dignity. 
"  Well,  what  t'ell !  "  he  softly  murmured. 
Then  he  leaped  forward  and  walloped  Red 
1 60 


PEACE  HATH  ITS  VICTORIES 

on  the  back.  "  Hey,  yore  royal  highness!  " 
he  shouted.  "  Yu-yu-yu — oh,  hang  it — yuf 
Yu  slab-sided,  ring-boned,  saddle-galled  shade 
of  a  coyote,  do  yu  think  I'm  only  meanderin' 
in  th'  misty  vales  of — of " 

Suggestions  intruded  from  various  sources. 
"Hades?"  offered  Hopalong.  "Chey- 
enne?" murmured  Johnny.  "Misty  misti- 
ness of  misty?  "  tentatively  supplied  Waffles. 

Red  turned  around  again.  "  Better  come 
up  an'  have  something"  he  sympathetically 
invited,  wiping  away  an  imaginary  tear. 

"  An'  he's  so  young!  "  sobbed  Frenchy. 

"An' so  fair!  "wailed  Tex. 

"  An'  so  ornery!  "  howled  Lefty,  throwing 
his  arms  around  the  discomfited  youngster. 
Other  arms  went  around  him,  and  out  of  the 
sobbing  mob  could  be  heard  earnest  and  heart- 
felt cussing,  interspersed  with  imperative 
commands,  which  were  gradually  obeyed. 

The  Kid  straightened  up  his  wearing  ap- 
parel. "  Come  on,  yu  locoed " 

"Angels?"  queried  Charley  Lane,  inter- 
rupting   him.     "Sweet    things?"    breathed 
Hopalong  in  hopeful  expectancy. 
161 


BAR  —  20 


"  Oh,  d— n  it!  "  yelled  the  Kid  as  he  ran 
out  into  the  street  to  escape  the  persecution. 

"  Good  Kid,  all  right,"  remarked  Waffles. 
"  He'll  go  around  an5  lick  some  Greaser  an' 
come  back  sweet  as  honey." 

"Did  somebody  say  poker?"  asked  Big- 
foot,  digressing  from  the  Kid. 

"  Oh,  yu  fellows  don't  want  no  poker.  Of 
course  yu  don't.  Poker's  mighty  uncertain," 
replied  Red. 

"  Yah!  "  exclaimed  Tex  Le  Blanc,  pushing 
forward.  "  I'll  just  bet  yu  to  a  standstill  that 
Waffles  an'  Salvation  '11  round  up  all  th'  fes- 
tive simoleons  yu  can  get  together!  An'  I'll 
throw  in  Frenchy's  hat  as  an  inducement." 

"  Well,  if  yore  shore  set  on  it  make  her  a 
pool,"  replied  Red,  "  an'  th'  winners  divide 
with  their  outfit.  Here's  a  starter,"  he  added, 
tossing  a  buckskin  bag  on  the  table.  "  Come 
on,  pile  'em  up." 

The  crowd  divided  as  the  players  seated 
themselves  at  the  table,  the  O-Bar-O  crowd 
grouping  themselves  behind  their  representa- 
tives; the  Bar-2O  behind  theirs.  A  deck  of 
cards  was  brought  and  the  game  was  on. 
162 


PEACE  HATH  ITS  VICTORIES 

Red,  true  to  his  nature,  leaned  back  in  a 
corner,  where,  hands  on  hips,  he  awaited  any 
hostile  demonstration  on  the  part  of  the 
O-Bar-O;  then,  suddenly  remembering,  he 
looked  half  ashamed  of  his  warlike  position 
and  became  a  peaceful  citizen  again.  Buck 
leaned  with  his  broad  back  against  the  bar, 
talking  over  his  shoulder  to  the  bartender, 
but  watching  Tenspot  Davis,  who  was  assid- 
uously engaged  in  juggling  a  handful  of  Mex- 
ican dollars.  Up  by  the  door  Bigfoot  Baker, 
elated  at  winning  the  buck-and-wing  contest, 
was  endeavoring  to  learn  a  new  step,  while  his 
late  rival  was  drowning  his  defeat  at  Buck's 
elbow.  Lefty  Allen  was  softly  singing  a 
Mexican  love  song,  humming  when  the  words 
would  not  come.  At  the  table  could  be  heard 
low-spoken  card  terms  and  good-natured  ban- 
ter, interspersed  with  the  clink  of  gold  and 
silver  and  the  soft  pat-pat  of  the  onlookers' 
feet  unconsciously  keeping  time  to  Lefty's 
song.  Notwithstanding  the  grim  assertive- 
ness  of  belts  full  of  .45 's  and  the  peeping 
handles  of  long-barreled  Colts,  set  off  with 
picturesque  chaps,  sombreros  and  tinkling 


BAR  —  20 


spurs,  the  scene  was  one  of  peaceful  content 
and  good-fellowship. 

"  Ugh !  "  grunted  Johnny,  walking  over  to 
Red  and  informing  that  person  that  he,  Red, 
was  a  worm-eaten  prune  and  that  for  half  a 
wink  he,  Johnny,  would  prove  it.  Red 
grabbed  him  by  the  seat  of  his  corduroys  and 
the  collar  of  his  shirt  and  helped  him  outside, 
where  they  strolled  about,  taking  pot  shots 
at  whatever  their  fancy  suggested. 

Down  the  street  in  a  cloud  of  dust  rumbled 
the  Las  Cruces-El  Paso  stage  and  the  two 
punchers  went  up  to  meet  it.  Raw  furrows 
showed  in  the  woodwork,  one  mule  was  miss- 
ing and  the  driver  and  guard  wore  fresh  band- 
ages. A  tired  tenderfoot  leaped  out  with  a 
sigh  of  relief  and  hunted  for  his  baggage, 
which  he  found  to  be  generously  perforated. 
Swearing  at  the  God-forsaken  land  where  a 
man  had  to  fight  highwaymen  and  Indians 
inside  of  half  a  day  he  grumblingly  lugged  his 
valise  toward  a  forbidding-looking  shack 
which  was  called  a  hotel. 

The  driver  released  his  teams  and  then 
turned  to  Red.  "  Hullo,  old  hoss,  how's  th' 
164 


PEACE  HATH  ITS  VICTORIES 

gang?"  he  asked  genially.  "  We've  had  a 
h — 1  of  a  time  this  yere  trip,"  he  went  on 
without  waiting  for  Red  to  reply.  "  Five 
miles  out  of  Las  Crues  we  stood  off  a  son-of- 
a-gun  that  wanted  th'  dude's  wealth.  Then 
just  this  side  of  the  San  Andre  foothills  we 
runs  into  a  bunch  of  young  bucks  who  turned 
us  off  this  yere  way  an'  gave  us  a  runnin'  fight 
purty  near  all  th'  way.  I'm  a  whole  lot  far- 
ther from  Paso  now  than  I  was  when  I 
started,  an'  seein'  as  I  lost  a  jack  I'll  be  some 
time  gittin'  there.  Yu  don't  happen  to  sabe 
a  jack  I  can  borrow,  do  yu?  " 

"  I  don't  know  about  no  jack,  but  I'll  rope 
yu  a  bronch,"  offered  Red,  winking  at  Johnny. 

"  I'll  pull  her  myself  before  I'll  put  dyna- 
mite in  th'  traces,"  replied  the  driver.  "  Yu 
fellers  might  amble  back  a  ways  with  me — 
them  buddin'  warriors  '11  be  layin'  for  me." 

"  We  shore  will,"  responded  Johnny 
eagerly.  "  There's  nine  of  us  now  an'  there'll 
be  nine  more  an'  a  cook  to-morrow,  mebby." 

u  Gosh,  yu  grows  some,"  replied  the  guard. 
"  Eighteen'll  be  a  plenty  for  them  glory 
hunters." 


BAR  —  20 


"  We  won't  be  able  to,"  contradicted  Red, 
"  for  things  are  peculiar." 

At  this  moment  the  conversation  was  inter- 
rupted by  the  tenderfoot,  who  sported  a  new 
and  cheap  sombrero  and  also  a  belt  and  holster 
complete. 

"  Will  you  gentlemen  join  me?  "  he  asked, 
turning  to  Red  and  nodding  at  the  saloon. 
"  I  am  very  dry  and  much  averse  to  drinking 
alone." 

"  Why,  shore,"  responded  Red  heartily, 
wishing  to  put  the  stranger  at  ease. 

The  game  was  running  about  even  as  they 
entered  and  Lefty  Allen  was  singing  "  The 
Insult,"  the  rich  tenor  softening  the  harshness 
of  the  surroundings. 

THE  INSULT 

Pve  swum  th'  Colorado  where  she  runs  down  clost  to  hell, 
I've  braced  th'  faro  layouts  in  Cheyenne; 

I've  fought  for  muddy  water  with  a  howlin'  bunch  of  Sioux, 
An'  swallowed  hot  tamales,  an'  cayenne. 

I've  rid  a  pitchin'  broncho  'till  th'  sky  was  underneath, 

I've  tackled  every  desert  in  th'  land; 
I've  sampled  XXXX  whiskey  'till  I  couldn't  hardly  see, 

An'  dallied  with  th'  quicksands  of  the  Grande. 

166 


PEACE  HATH  ITS  VICTORIES 

I've  argued  with  th'  marshals  of  a  half-a-dozen  burgs, 
I've  been  dragged  free  an'  fancy  by  a  cow; 

I've  had  three  years'  campaignin'  with  th'  fightin',  bitin' 

Ninth, 
An'  never  lost  my  temper  'till  right  now. 

I've  had  the  yaller  fever  an'  I've  been  shot  full  of  holes, 
I've  grabbed  an  army  mule  plumb  by  its  tail; 

I've  never  been  so  snortin',  really  highfalutin'  mad 
As  when  y'u  up  an'  hands  me  ginger  ale! 

Hopalong  laughed  joyously  at  a  remark 
made  by  Waffles  and  the  stranger  glanced 
quickly  at  him.  His  merry,  boyish  face,  un- 
derlined by  a  jaw  showing  great  firmness  and 
set  off  with  an  expression  of  aggressive  self- 
reliance,  impressed  the  stranger  and  he  re- 
marked to  Red,  who  lounged  lazily  near  him, 
that  he  was  surprised  to  see  such  a  face  on 
so  young  a  man  and  he  asked  who  the  player 
was. 

"  Oh,  his  name's  Hopalong  Cassidy,"  an- 
swered Red.  "  He's  th'  cuss  that  raised  that 
ruction  down  in  Mexico  last  spring.  Rode 
his  cayuse  in  a  saloon  and  played  with  the 
loungers  and  had  to  shoot  one  before  he  got 
out.  When  he  did  get  out  he  had  to  fight  a 
whole  bunch  of  Greasers  an'  even  potted  their 


BAR  — 20 


marshal,  who  had  th'  drop  on  him.  Then  he 
returned  and  visited  the  marshal  about  a 
month  later,  took  his  gun  away  from  him  an' 
then  cut  th'  cards  to  see  if  he  was  a  prisoner  or 
not.  He's  a  shore  funny  cuss." 

The  tenderfoot  gasped  his  amazement. 
"  Are  you  not  fooling  with  me?  "  he  asked. 

"  Tell  him  yu  came  after  that  five  hundred 
dollars  reward  and  see,"  answered  Red  good- 
naturedly. 

"  Holy  smoke!  "  shouted  Waffles  as  Hop- 
along  won  his  sixth  consecutive  pot.  "  Did 
yu  ever  see  such  luck?  "  Frenchy  grinned 
and  some  time  later  raked  in  his  third.  Salva- 
tion then  staked  his  last  cent  against  Hopa- 
long's  flush  and  dropped  out. 

Tenspot  flipped  to  Waffles  the  money  he 
had  been  juggling  and  Lefty  searched  his 
clothes  for  wealth.  Buck,  still  leaning  against 
the  bar,  grinned  and  winked  at  Johnny,  who 
was  pouring  hair-raising  tales  into  the  recep- 
tive ears  of  the  stranger.  Thereupon  Johnny 
confided  to  his  newly  found  acquaintance  the 
facts  about  the  game,  nearly  causing  that  per- 
son to  explode  with  delight. 
168 


PEACE  HATH  ITS  VICTORIES 

Waffles  pushed  back  his  chair,  stood  up  and 
stretched.  At  the  finish  of  a  yawn  he  grinned 
at  his  late  adversary.  "  I'm  all  in,  yu  old 
son-of-a-gun.  Yu  shore  can  play  draw.  I'm 
goin'  to  try  yu  again  some  time.  I  was  beat 
fair  an'  square  an'  I  ain't  got  no  kick  comin', 
none  whatever,"  he  remarked,  as  he  shook 
hands  with  Hopalong. 

"  *  Oh,  we're  that  gang  from  th'  O-Bar- 
O,'  "  hummed  the  Kid  as  he  sauntered  in. 
One  cheek  was  slightly  swollen  and  his  clothes 
shed  dust  at  every  step.  "  Who  wins?  "  he 
inquired,  not  having  heard  Waffles. 

"  They  did,  d— n  it !  "  exploded  Bigfoot. 

One  of  the  Kid's  peculiarities  was  revealed 
in  the  unreasoning  and  hasty  conclusions  he 
arrived  at.  From  no  desire  to  imply  unfair- 
ness, but  rather  because  of  his  bitterness 
against  failure  of  any  kind  and  his  loyalty  to 
Waffles,  came  his  next  words:  "  Mebby  they 
skinned  yu." 

Like  a  flash  Waffles  sprang  before  him,  his 
hand  held  up,  palm  out.  "  He  don't  mean 
nothin' — he's  only  a  d — n-fool  kid!  "  he 
cried. 

169 


BAR  —  20 


Buck  smiled  and  wrested  the  Colt  from 
Johnny's  ever-ready  hand.  "  Here's  an- 
other," he  said.  Red  laughed  softly  and 
rolled  Johnny  on  the  floor.  "  Yu  jackass," 
he  whispered,  "  don't  yu  know  better'n  to 
make  a  gun-play  when  we  needs  them  all?  " 

'*  What  are  we  goin'  to  do?  "  asked  Tex, 
glancing  at  the  bulging  pockets  of  Hopalong's 
chaps. 

'  We're  goin'  to  punch  cows  again,  that's 
what  we're  goin'  to  do,"  answered  Bigfoot 
dismally. 

"  An'  whose  are  we  goin'  to  punch?  We 
can't  go  back  to  the  old  man,"  grumbled  Tex. 

Salvation  looked  askance  at  Buck  and  then 
at  the  others.  "  Mebby,"  he  began,  "  mebby 
we  kin  git  a  job  on  th'  Bar— 20."  Then  turning 
to  Buck  again  he  bluntly  asked,  "  Are  yu 
short  of  punchers  ?  " 

'  Well,  I  might  use  some,"  answered  the 
foreman,  hesitating.  "  But  I  ain't  got  only 
one  cook,  an' " 

"  We'll  git  yu  th'  cook  all  O.  K.,"  inter- 
rupted Charley  Lane  vehemently.  "  Hi,  yu 
170 


PEACE  HATH  ITS  VICTORIES 

cook!  "  he  shouted,  "  amble  in  here  an'  git  a 
rustle  on !  " 

There  was  no  reply,  and  after  waiting  for 
a  minute  he  and  Waffles  went  into  the  rear 
room,  from  which  there  immediately  issued 
great  chunks  of  profanity  and  noise.  They 
returned  looking  pugnacious  and  disgusted, 
with  a  wildly  fighting  man  who  was  more  full 
of  liquor  than  was  the  bottle  which  he  bellig- 
erently waved. 

"  This  here  animated  distillery  what  yu  sees 
is  our  cook,"  said  Waffles.  "We  eats  his 
grub,  nobody  else.  If  he  gits  drunk  that's  our 
funeral;  but  he  won't  get  drunk!  If  yu  wants 
us  to  punch  for  yu  say  so  an'  we  does;  if  yu 
don't,  we  don't." 

"  Well,"  replied  Buck  thoughtfully,  "  meb- 
by  I  can  use  yu."  Then  with  a  burst  of  reck- 
lessness he  added,  "  Yes,  if  I  lose  my  job ! 
But  yu  might  sober  that  Greaser  up  if  yu  let 
him  fall  in  th'  horse  trough." 

As  the  procession  wended  its  way  on  its 
mission  of  wet  charity,  carrying  the  cook  in 
any  manner  at  all,  Frenchy  waved  his  long- 
171 


BAR  —  20 


lost  sombrero  at  Buck,  who  stood  in  the  door, 
and  shouted,  "  Yu  old  son-of-a-gun,  I'm  proud 
to  know  yu  !  " 

Buck  smiled  and  snapped  his  watch  shut. 
"  Time  to  amble,"  he  said. 


172 


CHAPTER    XI 

HOLDING   THE   CLAIM 

H,  we're  that  gang  from  th'  O-Bar-O," 
hummed  Waffles,  sinking  the  brand- 
ing-iron in  the  flank  of  a  calf.  The  scene  was 
one  of  great  activity  and  hilarity.  Several 
fires  were  burning  near  the  huge  corral  and 
in  them  half  a  dozen  irons  were  getting  hot. 
Three  calves  were  being  held  down  for  the 
brand  of  the  "  Bar— 20  "  and  two  more  were 
being  dragged  up  on  their  sides  by  the  ropes 
of  the  cowboys,  the  proud  cow-ponies  showing 
off  their  accomplishments  at  the  expense  of  the 
calves'  feelings.  In  the  corral  the  dust  arose 
in  steady  clouds  as  calf  after  calf  was  "  cut 
out  "  by  the  ropers  and  dragged  out  to  get 
"  tagged."  Angry  cows  fought  valiantly  for 
their  terrorized  offspring,  but  always  to  no 
avail,  for  the  hated  rope  of  some  perspiring 
and  dust-grimed  rider  sent  them  crashing  to 
earth.  Over  the  plain  were  herds  of  cattle 
173 


BAR  —  20 


and  groups  of  madly  riding  cowboys,  and  two 
cook  wagons  were  stalled  a  short  distance 
from  the  corral.  The  round-up  of  the  Bar-2O 
was  taking  place,  and  each  of  the  two  outfits 
tried  to  outdo  the  other  and  each  individual 
strove  for  a  prize.  The  man  who  cut  out 
and  dragged  to  the  fire  the  most  calves  in 
three  days  could  leave  for  the  Black  Hills 
at  the  expiration  of  that  time,  the  rest  to  fol- 
low as  soon  as  they  could. 

In  this  contest  Hopalong  Cassidy  led  his 
nearest  rival,  Red  Connors,  both  of  whom 
were  Bar— 20  men,  by  twenty  cut-outs,  and 
there  remained  but  half  an  hour  more  in  which 
to  compete.  As  Red  disappeared  into  the  sea 
of  tossing  horns  Hopalong  dashed  out  with 
a  whoop,  dragging  a  calf  at  the  end  of  his 
rope. 

"  Hi,  yu  trellis-built  rack  of  bones,  come 
along  there !  Whoop !"  he  yelled,  turning 
the  prisoner  over  to  the  squad  by  the  fire. 
"  Chalk  up  this  here  insignificant  wart  of 
cross-eyed  perversity:  an'  how  many?"  he 
called  as  he  galloped  back  to  the  corral. 

"  One  ninety-eight,"  announced  Buck, 
174 


HOLDING  THE   CLAIM 

blowing  the  sand  from  the  tally  sheet. 
"  That's  shore  goin'  some,"  he  remarked  to 
himself. 

When  the  calf  sprang  up  it  was  filled  with 
terror,  rage  and  pain,  and  charged  at  Billy 
from  the  rear  as  that  pessimistic  soul  was 
leaning  over  and  poking  his  finger  at  a 
somber  horned-toad.  "  Wow !  "  he  yelled 
as  his  feet  took  huge  steps  up  in  the  air,  each 
one  strictly  on  its  own  course.  "  Woof!  "  he 
grunted  in  the  hot  sand  as  he  arose  on  his 
hands  and  knees  and  spat  alkali. 

"What's  s'matter?"  he  asked  dazedly  of 
Johnny  Nelson.  "  Ain't  it  funny !  "  he  yelled 
sarcastically  as  he  beheld  Johnny  holding  his 
sides  with  laughter.  "  Ain't  it  funny !  "  he 
repeated  belligerently.  "  Of  course  that 
four-laigged,  knock-kneed,  wobblin'  son-of-a 
Piute  had  to  cut  me  out.  They  wasn't  no- 
body in  sight  but  Billy !  Why  didn't  yu  say 
he  was  comin'  ?  Think  I  can  see  four  ways 
to  once  ?  Why  didn't — "  At  this  point  Red 
cantered  up  with  a  calf,  and  by  a  quick  ma- 
neuver, drew  the  taut  rope  against  the  rear 
of  Billy's  knees,  causing  that  unfortunate  to 
175 


BAR  — 20 


sit  down  heavily.  As  he  arose  choking  with 
broken-winded  profanity  Red  dragged  the 
animal  to  the  fire,  and  Billy  forgot  his  griev- 
ances in  the  press  of  labor. 

"  How  many,  Buck?  "  asked  Red. 

"  One-eighty." 

"  How  does  she  stand?  " 

"  Yore  eighteen  to  th'  bad,"  replied  the 
foreman. 

"  Th'  son-of-a-gun !  "  marveled  Red,  rid- 
ing off. 

Another  whoop  interrupted  them,  and  Billy 
quit  watching  out  of  the  corner  eye  for  pug- 
nacious calves  as  he  prepared  for  Hopalong. 

"  Hey,  Buck,  this  here  cuss  was  with  a 
Barred-Horseshoe  cow,"  he  announced  as  he 
turned  it  over  to  the  branding  man.  Buck 
made  a  tally  in  a  separate  column  and  re- 
leased the  animal.  "  Hullo,  Red !  Work- 
in'  ?  "  asked  Hopalong  of  his  rival. 

"  Some,  yu  little  cuss,"  answered  Red  with 
all  the  good  nature  in  the  world.     Hopalong 
was  his  particular   "  side  partner,"   and   he 
could  lose  to  him  with  the  best  of  feelings. 
176 


HOLDING  THE   CLAIM 

"  Yu  looks  so  nice  an'  cool,  an'  clean,  I 
didn't  know,"  responded  Hopalong,  eyeing 
a  streak  of  sweat  and  dust  which  ran  from 
Red's  eyes  to  his  chin  and  then  on  down  his 
neck. 

"  What  yu  been  doin'  ?  Plowin'  with  yore 
nose?  "  returned  Red,  smiling  blandly  at  his 
friend's  appearance. 

"  Yah !  "  snorted  Hopalong,  wheeling  to- 
ward the  corral.  "  Come  on,  yu  pie-eatin' 
doodle-bug;  I'll  beat  yu  to  th'  gate!  " 

The  two  ponies  sent  showers  of  sand  all 
over  Billy,  who  eyed  them  in  pugnacious  dis- 
gust. "  Of  all  th'  locoed  imps  that  ever 
made  life  miserable  fer  a  man,  them's  th' 
worst!  Is  there  any  piece  of  fool  nonsense 
they  hain't  harnessed  me  with?  "  he  beseeched 
of  Buck.  "  Is  there  anything  they  hain't 
done  to  me?  They  hides  my  liquor;  they 
stuffs  th'  sweat  band  of  my  hat  with  rope; 
they  ties  up  my  pants ;  they  puts  water  in  my 
boots  an'  toads  in  my  bunk — ain't  they  never 
goin'  to  get  sane?  " 

"  Oh,  they're  only  kids — they  can't  help 
177 


BAR  —  20 


it,"  offered  Buck.  "  Didn't  they  hobble  my 
cayuse  when  I  was  on  him  an'  near  bust  my 
neck?" 

Hopalong  interrupted  the  conversation  by 
bringing  up  another  calf,  and  Buck,  glancing 
at  his  watch,  declared  the  contest  at  an  end. 

"  Yu  wins,"  he  remarked  to  the  newcomer. 
"  An'  now  yu  get  scarce  or  Billy  will  shore 
straddle  yore  nerves.  He  said  as  how  he 
was  goin'  to  get  square  on  yu  to-night." 

"  I  didn't,  neither,  Hoppy !  "  earnestly  con- 
tradicted Billy,  who  had  visions  of  a  night 
spent  in  torment  as  a  reprisal  for  such  a 
threat.  "  Honest  I  didn't,  did  I,  Johnny?  " 
he  asked  appealingly. 

"  Yu  shore  did,"  lied  Johnny,  winking  at 
Red,  who  had  just  ridden  up. 

"  I  don't  know  what  yore  talkin'  about,  but 
yu  shore  did,"  replied  Red. 

"If  yu  did,"  grinned  Hopalong,  "I'll 
shore  make  yu  hard  to  find.  Come  on,  fel- 
lows," he  said;  "  grub's  ready.  Where's 
Frenchy?" 

"  Over  chewin'  th'  rag  with  Waffles  about 
his  hat — he's  lost  it  again,"  answered  Red. 


HOLDING  THE   CLAIM 

"  He  needs  a  guardian  fer  that  bonnet.  Th' 
Kid  an'  Salvation  has  jammed  it  in  th'  corral 
fence  an'  Waffles  has  to  stand  fer  it." 

"  Let's  put  it  in  th'  grub  wagon  an'  see 
him  cuss  cookie,"  suggested  Hopalong. 

"  Shore,"  indorsed  Johnny;  "  Coolde'll 
feed  him  bum  grub  for  a  week  to  get  square." 

Hopalong  and  Johnny  ambled  over  to  the 
corral  and  after  some  trouble  located  the 
missing  sombrero,  which  they  carried  to  the 
grub  wagon  and  hid  in  the  flour  barrel.  Then 
they  went  over  by  the  excited  owner  and 
dropped  a  few  remarks  about  how  strange 
the  cook  was  acting  and  how  he  was  watch- 
ing Frenchy. 

Frenchy  jumped  at  the  bait  and  tore  over 
to  the  wagon,  where  he  and  the  cook  spent 
some  time  in  mutual  recrimination.  Hop- 
along  nosed  around  and  finally  dug  up  the 
hat,  white  as  new-fallen  snow. 

"  Here's  a  hat — found  it  in  th'  dough 
barrel,"  he  announced,  handing  it  over  to 
Frenchy,  who  received  it  in  open-mouthed 
stupefaction. 

*  Yu  pie-makin'  pirate !      Yu  didn't  know 
179 


BAR  —  20 


where  my  lid  was,  did  yu !  Yu  cross-eyed 
lump  of  hypocrisy!  "  yelled  Frenchy,  dusting 
off  the  flour  with  one  full-armed  swing  on  the 
cook's  face,  driving  it  into  that  unfortunate's 
nose  and  eyes  and  mouth.  "  Yu  white-washed 
Chink,  yu — rub  yore  face  with  water  an'  yu've 
got  pancakes." 

"Hey!  What  you  doinM "  yelled  the 
cook,  kicking  the  spot  where  he  had  last  seen 
Frenchy.  "  Don't  yu  know  better'n  that!  " 

"  Yu  live  close  to  yoreself  or  I'll  throw  yu 
so  high  th'  sun'll  duck,"  replied  Frenchy,  a 
smile  illuminating  his  face. 

"  Hey,  cookie,"  remarked  Hopalong  con- 
fidentially, "  I  know  who  put  up  this  joke  on 
yu.  Yu  ask  Billy  who  hid  th'  hat,"  suggested 
the  tease.  "  Here  he  comes  now — see  how 
queer  he  looks." 

"  Th'  mournful  Piute,"  ejaculated  the  cook. 
"  I'll  shore  make  him  wish  he'd  kept  on  his 
own  trail.  I'll  flavor  his  slush  [coffee]  with 
year-old  dish-rags !  " 

At  this  juncture  Billy  ambled  up,  keeping 
his  weather  eye  peeled  for  trouble.  "  Who's 
a  dish-rag?  "  he  queried.  The  cook  mumbled 
180 


HOLDING  THE   CLAIM 

something  about  crazy  hens  not  knowing  when 
to  quit  cackling  and  climbed  up  in  his  wagon. 
And  that  night  Billy  swore  off  drinking  coffee. 

When  the  dawn  of  the  next  day  broke, 
Hopalong  was  riding  toward  the  Black  Hills, 
leaving  Billy  to  untie  himself  as  best  he  might. 

The  trip  was  uneventful  and  several  days 
later  he  entered  Red  Dog,  a  rambling  shanty 
town,  one  of  those  western  mushrooms  that 
sprang  up  in  a  night.  He  took  up  his  stand 
at  the  Miner's  Rest,  and  finally  secured  six 
claims  at  the  cost  of  nine  hundred  hard-earned 
dollars,  a  fund  subscribed  by  the  outfits,  as  it 
was  to  be  a  partnership  affair. 

He  rode  out  to  a  staked-off  piece  of  hill- 
side and  surveyed  his  purchase,  which  con- 
sisted of  a  patch  of  ground,  six  holes,  six 
piles  of  dirt  and  a  log  hut.  The  holes  showed 
that  the  claims  had  been  tried  and  found  want- 
ing. 

He  dumped  his  pack  of  tools  and  provis- 
ions, which  he  had  bought  on  the  way  up,  and 
lugged  them  into  the  cabin.  After  satisfying 
his  curiosity  he  went  outside  and  sat  down  for 
a  smoke,  figuring  up  in  his  mind  how  much 
181 


BAR  — 20 


gold  he  could  carry  on  a  horse.  Then,  as  he 
realized  that  he  could  get  a  pack  mule  to 
carry  the  surplus,  he  became  aware  of  a 
strange  presence  near  at  hand  and  looked  up 
into  the  muzzle  of  a  Sharp's  rifle.  He 
grasped  the  situation  in  a  flash  and  calmly 
blew  several  heavy  smoke  rings  around  the 
frowning  barrel. 

"Well?"  he  asked  slowly. 

"  Nice  day,  stranger,"  replied  the  man 
with  the  rifle,  "  but  don't  yu  reckon  yuVe 
made  a  mistake?  " 

Hopalong  glanced  at  the  number  burned 
on  a  near-by  stake  and  carelessly  blew  another 
smoke  ring.  He  was  waiting  for  the  gun  to 
waver. 

"  No,  I  reckons  not,"  he  answered. 
"Why?" 

"  Well,  I'll  jest  tell  yu  since  yu  asks.  This 
yere  claim's  mine  an'  I'm  a  reg'lar  terror,  I 
am.  That's  why;  an'  seein'  as  it  is,  yu  better 
amble  some." 

Hopalong  glanced  down  the  street  and 
saw  an  interested  group  watching  him,  which 
only  added  to  his  rage  for  being  in  such  a 
182 


Calmly    blew   several    heavy    smoke   rings   around    the 
frowning  barrel  " 


HOLDING  THE   CLAIM 

position.  Then  he  started  to  say  something, 
faltered  and  stared  with  horror  at  a  point 
several  feet  behind  his  opponent.  The  "  ter- 
ror "  sprang  to  one  side  in  response  to  Hop- 
along's  expression,  as  if  fearing  that  a  snake 
or  some  such  danger  threatened  him.  As  he 
alighted  in  his  new  position  he  fell  forward 
and  Hopalong  slid  a  smoking  Colt  in  its 
holster. 

Several  men  left  the  distant  group  and  ran 
toward  the  claim.  Hopalong  reached  his 
arm  inside  the  door  and  brought  forth  his 
Sharp's  rifle,  with  which  he  covered  their 
advance. 

"Anything  yu  want?"  he  shouted  sav- 
agely. 

The  men  stopped  and  two  of  them  started 
to  sidle  in  front  of  two  others,  but  Hopalong 
was  not  there  for  the  purpose  of  permitting 
a  move  that  would  screen  any  gun  play  and 
he  stopped  the  game  with  a  warning  shout. 
Then  the  two  held  up  their  hands  and  ad- 
vanced. 

"  We  wants  to  git  Dan,"  called  out  one  of 
them,  nodding  at  the  prostrate  figure. 

183 


BAR  — 20 


"  Come  ahead,"  replied  Hopalong,  sub- 
stituting a  Colt  for  the  rifle. 

They  carried  their  badly  wounded  and  in- 
sensible burden  back  to  those  whom  they  had 
left,  and  several  curses  were  hurled  at  the 
cowboy,  who  only  smiled  grimly  and  entered 
the  hut  to  place  things  ready  for  a  siege, 
should  one  come.  He  had  one  hundred 
rounds  of  ammunition  and  provisions  enough 
for  two  weeks,  with  the  assurance  of  rein- 
forcements long  before  that  time  would  ex- 
pire. He  cut  several  rough  loopholes  and 
laid  out  his  weapons  for  quick  handling.  He 
knew  that  he  could  stop  any  advance  during 
the  day  and  planned  only  for  night  attacks. 
How  long  he  could  go  without  sleep  did  not 
bother  him,  because  he  gave  it  no  thought,  as 
he  was  accustomed  to  short  naps  and  could 
awaken  at  will  or  at  the  slightest  sound. 

As  dusk  merged  into  dark  he  crept  forth 
and  collected  several  handfuls  of  dry  twigs, 
which  he  scattered  around  the  hut,  as  the 
cracking  of  these  would  warn  him  of  an  ap- 
proach. Then  he  went  in  and  went  to  sleep. 
184 


HOLDING  THE   CLAIM 

He  awoke  at  daylight  after  a  good  night's 
rest,  and  feasted  on  canned  beans  and  peaches. 
Then  he  tossed  the  cans  out  of  the  door  and 
shoved  his  hat  out.  Receiving  no  response 
he  walked  out  and  surveyed  the  town  at  his 
feet.  A  sheepish  grin  spread  over  his  face 
as  he  realized  that  there  was  no  danger.  Sev- 
eral red-shirted  men  passed  by  him  on  their 
way  to  town,  and  one,  a  grizzled  veteran  of 
many  gold  camps,  stopped  and  sauntered  up 
to  him. 

"  MorninV'  said  Hopalong. 

"  Mornin',"  replied  the  stranger.  "  I 
thought  I'd  drop  in  an'  say  that  I  saw  that 
gun-play  of  yourn  yesterday.  Yu  ain't  got 
no  reason  to  look  fer  a  rush.  This  camp  is 
half  white  men  an'  half  bullies,  an'  th'  white 
men  won't  stand  fer  no  play  like  that.  Them 
fellers  that  jest  passed  are  neighbors  of  yourn, 
an'  they  won't  lay  abed  if  yu  needs  them.  But 
yu  wants  to  look  out  fer  th'  joints  in  th' 
town.  Guess  this  business  is  out  of  yore 
line,"  he  finished  as  he  sized  Hopalong  up. 

"  She  shore  is,  but  I'm  here  to  stay.     Got 

185 


BAR  —  20 


tired  of  punchin'  an'  reckoned  I'd  git  rich." 
Here  he  smiled  and  glanced  at  the  hole. 
"  How're  yu  makin'  out?  "  he  asked. 

"  'Bout  five  dollars  a  day  apiece,  but  that 
ain't  nothin'  when  grub's  so  high.  Got  reck- 
less th'  other  day  an'  had  a  egg  at  fifty  cents." 

Hopalong  whistled  and  glanced  at  the 
empty  cans  at  his  feet.  "  Any  marshal  in 
this  burg?" 

"Yep.  But  he's  one  of  th'  gang.  No 
good,  an'  drunk  half  th'  time  an'  half  drunk 
th'  rest.  Better  come  down  an'  have  some- 
thing," invited  the  miner. 

"  I'd  shore  like  to,  but  I  can't  let  no  gang 
get  in  that  door,"  replied  the  puncher. 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right;  I'll  call  my  pardner 
down  to  keep  house  till  yu  gits  back.  He  can 
hold  her  all  right.  Hey,  Jake !  "  he  called 
to  a  man  who  was  some  hundred  paces  dis- 
tant; "  come  down  here  an'  keep  house  till 
we  gits  back,  will  yu  ?  " 

The  man  lumbered  down  to  them  and  took 
possession  as  Hopalong  and  his  newly  found 
friend  started  for  the  town. 

They  entered  the  "  Miner's  Rest "  and 
186 


HOLDING  THE   CLAIM 

Hopalong  fixed  the  room  in  his  mind  with  one 
swift  glance.  Three  men — and  they  looked 
like  the  crowd  he  had  stopped  before — were 
playing  poker  at  a  table  near  the  window. 
Hopalong  leaned  with  his  back  to  the  bar 
and  talked,  with  the  players  always  in  sight. 

Soon  the  door  opened  and  a  bewhiskered, 
heavy-set  man  tramped  in,  and  walking  up  to 
Hopalong,  looked  him  over. 

"  Huh,"  he  sneered,  "  yu  are  th'  gent  with 
th'  festive  guns  that  plugged  Dan,  ain't  yu?  " 

Hopalong  looked  at  him  in  the  eyes  and 
quietly  replied:  "  An'  who  th'  h — 1  are  yu?  " 

The  stranger's  eyes  blazed  and  his  face 
wrinkled  with  rage  as  he  aggressively  shoved 
his  jaw  close  to  Hopalong's  face. 

"  Yu  runt,  I'm  a  better  man  than  yu  even  if 
yu  do  wear  hair  pants,"  referring  to  Hopa- 
long's chaps.  '  Yu  cow-wrastlers  make  me 
tired,  an'  I'm  goin'  to  show  yu  that  this  town 
is  too  good  for  you.  Yu  can  say  it  right  now 
that  yu  are  a  ornery,  game-leg " 

Hopalong,  blind  with  rage,  smashed  his 
insulter  squarely  between  the  eyes  with  all  the 
power  of  his  sinewy  body  behind  the  blow, 

' 


BAR  —  20 


knocking  him  in  a  heap  under  the  table. 
Then  he  quickly  glanced  at  the  card  players 
and  saw  a  hostile  movement.  His  gun  was 
out  in  a  flash  and  he  covered  the  trio  as  he 
walked  up  to  them.  Never  in  all  his  life  had 
he  felt  such  a  desire  to  kill.  His  eyes  were 
diamond  points  of  accumulated  fury,  and 
those  whom  he  faced  quailed  before  him. 

"Yu  scum  of  th'  earth!  Draw,  please 
draw !  Pull  yore  guns  an'  gimme  my  chance  ! 
Three  to  one,  an'  I'll  lay  my  guns  here,"  he 
said,  placing  them  on  the  bar  and  removing 
his  hands.  "  '  Nearer  My  God  to  Thee  '  is 
purty  appropriate  fer  yu  just  now !  Yu  seem 
to  be  a-scared  of  yore  own  guns.  Git  down 
on  yore  dirty  knees  an'  say  good  an'  loud  that 
yu  eats  dirt!  Shout  out  that  yu  are  too 
currish  to  live  with  decent  men,"  he  said, 
even-toned  and  distinct,  his  voice  vibrant  with 
passion  as  he  took  up  his  Colts.  "  Get 
down !  "  he  repeated,  shoving  the  weapons 
forward  and  pulling  back  the  hammers. 

The  trio  glanced  at  each  other,  and  all 
three  dropped  to  their  knees  and  repeated  in 
188 


HOLDING  THE   CLAIM 

venomous  hatred  the  words  Hopalong  said 
for  them. 

"  Now  git !  An'  if  I  sees  yu  when  I  leaves 
I'll  send  yu  after  yore  friend.  I'll  shoot  on 
sight  now.  Git!  "  He  escorted  them  to  the 
door  and  kicked  the  last  one  out. 

His  miner  friend  still  leaned  against  the 
bar  and  looked  his  approval. 

"  Well  done,  youngster!  But  yu  wants  to 
look  out — that  man,"  pointing  to  the  now 
groping  victim  of  Hopalong's  blow,  "is  th' 
marshal  of  this  town.  He  or  his  pals  will 
get  yu  if  yu  don't  watch  th'  corners." 

Hopalong  walked  over  to  the  marshal, 
jerked  him  to  his  feet  and  slammed  him 
against  the  bar.  Then  he  tore  the  cheap 
badge  from  its  place  and  threw  it  on  the 
floor.  Reaching  down,  he  drew  the  mar- 
shal's revolver  from  its  holster  and  shoved  it 
in  its  owner's  hand. 

"  Yore  th'  marshal  of  this  place  an'  it's  too 

good  for  me,  but  yore  goin'  to  pick  up  that 

tin  lie,"  pointing  at  the  badge,   "  an'   yore 

goin'    to    do    it    right    now.     Then    yore 

189 


BAR  —  20 


goin'  to  get  kicked  out  of  that  door,  an'  if 
yu  stops  runnin'  while  I  can  see  yu  I'll  fill 
yu  so  full  of  holes  yu'll  catch  cold.  Yore  a 
sumptious  marshal,  yu  are!  Yore  th'  snort- 
ingest  ki-yi  that  ever  stuck  its  tail  atween  its 
laigs,  yu  are.  Yu  pop-eyed  wall  flower,  yu 
wants  to  peep  to  yoreself  or  some  papoose  '11 
slide  yu  over  th'  Divide  so  fast  yu  won't 
have  time  to  grease  yore  pants.  Pick  up  that 
license-tag  an'  let  me  see  you  perculate  so 
lively  that  yore  back  '11  look  like  a  ten-cent 
piece  in  five  seconds.  Flit !  " 

The  marshal,  dazed  and  bewildered, 
stooped  and  fumbled  for  the  badge.  Then 
he  stood  up  and  glanced  at  the  gun  in  his 
hand  and  at  the  eager  man  before  him.  He 
slid  the  weapon  in  his  belt  and  drew  his  hand 
across  his  fast-closing  eyes.  Cursing  streaks 
of  profanity,  he  staggered  to  the  door  and 
landed  in  a  heap  in  the  street  from  the  force 
of  Hopalong's  kick.  Struggling  to  his  feet, 
he  ran  unsteadily  down  the  block  and  disap- 
peared around  a  corner. 

The  bartender,  cool  and  unperturbed, 
pushed  out  three  glasses  on  his  treat :  "  I've 
190 


HOLDING  THE   CLAIM 

seen  yu  afore,  up  in  Cheyenne — 'member? 
How's  yore  friend  Red?"  he  asked  as  he 
filled  the  glasses  with  the  best  the  house 
afforded. 

"  Well,  shore  'nuff !  Glad  to  see  yu, 
Jimmy!  What  yu  doin'  away  off  here?" 
asked  Hopalong,  beginning  to  feel  at  home. 

"  Oh,  jest  filterin'  round  like.  I'm  awful 
glad  to  see  yu — this  yere  wart  of  a  town 
needs  siftin'  out.  It  was  only  last  week  I  was 
wishin'  one  of  yore  bunch  'ud  show  up — that 
ornament  yu  jest  buffaloed  shore  raised  th' 
devil  in  here,  an'  I  wished  I  had  somebody  to 
prospect  his  anatomy  for  a  lead  mine.  But 
he's  got  a  tough  gang  circulating  with  him. 
Ever  hear  of  Dutch  Shannon  or  Blinky 
Neary?  They's  with  him." 

"  Dutch  Shannon?     Nope,"  he  replied. 

"Bad  eggs,  an'  not  a-carin'  how  they  gits 
square.  Th'  feller  yu'  salted  yesterday  was 
a  bosom  friend  of  th'  marshal's,  an'  he  passed 
in  his  chips  last  night." 

"So?" 

'  Yep.  Bought  a  bottle  of  ready-made 
nerve  an'  went  to  his  own  funeral.  Aristotle 
191 


BAR  —  20 


Smith  was  lookin'  fer  him  up  in  Cheyenne  last 
year.  Aristotle  said  he'd  give  a  century  fer 
five  minutes'  palaver  with  him,  but  he  shied 
th'  town  an'  didn't  come  back.  Yu  know 
Aristotle,  don't  yu?  He's  th'  geezer  that 
made  fame  up  to  Poison  Knob  three  years 
ago.  He  used  to  go  to  town  ridin'  astride  a 
log  on  th'  lumber  flume.  Made  four  miles  in 
six  minutes  with  th'  promise  of  a  ruction  when 
he  stopped.  Once  when  he  was  loaded  he 
tried  to  ride  back  th'  same  way  he  came,  an' 
th'  first  thing  he  knowed  he  was  three  miles 
farther  from  his  supper  an'  a-slippin'  down 
that  valley  like  he  wanted  to  go  somewhere. 
He  swum  out  at  Potter's  Dam  an'  it  took  him 
a  day  to  walk  back.  But  he  didn't  make  that 
play  again,  because  he  was  frequently  sober, 
an'  when  he  wasn't  he'd  only  stand  off  an' 
swear  at  th'  slide." 

"  That's  Aristotle,  all  hunk.  He's  th'  chap 
that  used  to  play  checkers  with  Deacon  Raw- 
lins.  They  used  empty  an'  loaded  shells  for 
men,  an'  when  they  got  a  king  they'd  lay  one 
on  its  side.  Sometimes  they'd  jar  th'  board 
192 


HOLDING  THE  CLAIM 

an'  they'd  all  be  kings  an'  then  they'd  have  a 
cussin'  match,"  replied  Hopalong,  once  more 
restored  to  good  humor. 

"  Why,"  responded  Jimmy,  "  he  counted 
his  wealth  over  twice  by  mistake  an'  shore 
raised  a  howl  when  he  went  to  blow  it — 
thought  he'd  been  robbed,  an'  laid  behind  th' 
houses  fer  a  week  lookin'  fer  th'  feller  that 
done  it." 

"  I've  heard  of  that  cuss — he  shore  was  th' 
limit.  What  become  of  him?"  asked  the 
miner. 

"  He  ambled  up  to  Laramie  an'  stuck  his 
head  in  th'  window  of  that  joint  by  th'  plaza 
an'  hollered  *  Fire,'  an'  they  did.  He  was 
shore  a  good  feller,  all  th'  same,"  answered 
the  bartender. 

Hopalong  laughed  and  started  for  the 
door.  Turning  around  he  looked  at  his 
miner  friend  and  asked:  "  Comin'  along? 
I'm  goin'  back  now." 

"  Nope.  Reckon  I'll  hit  th'  tiger  a  whirl. 
I'll  stop  in  when  I  passes." 

"  All  right.  So  long,"  replied  Hopalong, 
193 


BAR  —  20 


slipping  out  of  the  door  and  watching  for 
trouble.  There  was  no  opposition  shown 
him,  and  he  arrived  at  his  claim  to  find  Jake 
in  a  heated  argument  with  another  of  the 
gang. 

"  Here  he  comes  now,"  he  said  as  Hopa- 
long  walked  up.  "  Tell  him  what  yu  said 
to  me." 

"  I  said  yu  made  a  mistake,"  said  the  other, 
turning  to  the  cowboy  in  a  half  apologetic 
manner. 

"  An'  what  else?  "  insisted  Jake. 

"Why,  ain't  that  all?"  asked  the  claim- 
jumper's  friend  in  feigned  surprise,  wishing 
that  he  had  kept  quiet. 

"  Well  I  reckons  it  is  if  yu  can't  back  up 
yore  words,"  responded  Jake  in  open  con- 
tempt. 

Hopalong  grabbed  the  intruder  by  the 
collar  of  his  shirt  and  hauled  him  off  the 
claim.  "  Yu  keep  off  this,  understand?  I 
just  kicked  yore  marshal  out  in  th'  street,  an7 
I'll  pay  yu  th'  next  call.  If  yu  rambles  in 
range  of  my  guns  yu'll  shore  get  in  th'  way  of 
194 


HOLDING  THE   CLAIM 

a  slug.  Yu  an'  yore  gang  wants  to  browse 
on  th'  far  side  of  th'  range  or  yu'll  miss  a  sun- 
rise some  mornin'.  Scoot !  " 

Hopalong  turned  to  his  companion  and 
smiled.  "What  'd  he  say?"  he  asked 
genially. 

"  Oh,  he  jest  shot  off  his  mouth  a  little. 
They's  all  no  good.  I've  collided  with 
lots  of  them  all  over  this  country.  They 
can't  face  a  good  man  an'  keep  their  nerve. 
What  'd  yu  say  to  th'  marshal?  " 

"  I  told  him  what  he  was  an'  threw  him 
outen  th'  street,"  replied  Hopalong.  "  In 
about  two  weeks  we'll  have  a  new  marshal 
an'  he'll  shore  be  a  dandy." 

"  Yes?  Why  don't  yu  take  th'  job  yore- 
self?  We're  with  yu." 

"  Better  man  comin'.  Ever  hear  of  Buck 
Peters  or  Red  Connors  of  th'  Bar— 20, 
Texas?" 

"Buck  Peters?  Seems  to  me  I  have.  Did 
he  punch  fer  th'  Tin-Cup  up  in  Montana, 
'bout  twenty  years  back?  " 

"Shore!  Him  and  Frenchy  McAllister 
195 


BAR  —  20 


punched  all  over  that  country  an'  they  used 
to  paint  Cheyenne,  too,"  replied  Hopalong, 
eagerly. 

"  I  knows  him,  then.  I  used  to  know 
Frenchy,  too.  Are  they  comin'  up  here?  " 

"  Yes,"  responded  Hopalong,  struggling 
with  another  can  while  waiting  for  the  fire 
to  catch  up.  "  Better  have  some  grub  with 
me — don't  like  to  eat  alone,"  invited  the  cow- 
boy, the  reaction  of  his  late  rage  swinging  him 
to  the  other  extreme. 

When  their  tobacco  had  got  well  started 
at  the  close  of  the  meal  and  content  had  taken 
possession  of  them  Hopalong  laughed  quietly 
and  finally  spoke  : 

"  Did  yu  ever  know  Aristotle  Smith  when 
yu  was  up  in  Montana?  " 

"  Did  I !  Well,  me  an'  Aristotle  pros- 
pected all  through  that  country  till  he  got 
so  locoed  I  had  to  watch  him  fer  fear  he'd 
blow  us  both  up.  He  greased  th'  fryin'  pan 
with  dynamite  one  night,  an'  we  shore  had  to 
eat  jerked  meat  an'  canned  stuff  all  th'  rest  of 
that  trip.  What  made  yu  ask?  Is  he  comin' 
up  too?" 

196 


HOLDING  THE   CLAIM 

"  No,  I  reckons  not.  Jimmy,  th'  bar- 
tender, said  that  he  cashed  in  up  at  Laramie. 
Wasn't  he  th'  cuss  that  built  that  boat  out 
there  on  th'  Arizona  desert  because  he  was 
scared  that  a  flood  might  come?  Th'  sun 
shore  warped  that  punt  till  it  wasn't  even  good 
for  a  hencoop." 

"  Nope.  That  was  Sister-Annie  Tomp- 
kins.  He  was  purty  near  as  bad  as  Aristotle, 
though.  He  roped  a  puma  up  on  th'  Sacra- 
mentos,  an'  didn't  punch  no  more  fer  three 
weeks.  Well,  here  comes  my  pardner  an'  I 
reckons  I'll  amble  right  along.  If  yu  needs 
any  referee  or  a  side  pardner  in  any  ruction 
yu  has  only  got  to  warble  up  my  way.  So 
long." 

The  next  ten  days  passed  quietly  and  on  the 
afternoon  of  the  eleventh  Hopalong's  miner 
friend  paid  him  a  visit. 

"  Jake  recommends  yore  peaches,"  he 
laughed  as  he  shook  Hopalong's  hand.  "  He 
says  yu  boosted  another  of  that  crowd.  That 
bein'  so  I  thought  I  would  drop  in  an'  say 
that  they're  comin'  after  yu  to-night,  shore. 
Just  heard  of  it  from  yore  friend  Jimmy.  Yu 
197 


BAR  — 20 


can  count  on  us  when  th'  rush  comes.  But 
why  didn't  yu  say  yu  was  a  pard  of  Buck 
Peters'?  Me  an'  him  used  to  shoot  up 
Laramie  together.  From  what  yore  friend 
James  says,  yu  can  handle  this  gang  by  yore 
lonesome,  but  if  yu  needs  any  encouragement 
yu  make  some  sign  an'  we'll  help  th'  event 
along  some.  They's  eight  of  us  that'll  be 
waitin'  up  to  get  th'  returns  an'  we're  shore 
goin'  to  be  in  range." 

"  Gee,  it's  nice  to  run  across  a  friend  of 
Buck's!  Ain't  he  a  son-of-a-gun? "  asked 
Hopalong,  delighted  at  the  news.  Then, 
without  waiting  for  a  reply,  he  went  on: 
"  Yore  shore  square,  all  right,  an'  I  hates  to 
refuse  yore  offer,  but  I  got  eighteen  friends 
comin'  up  an'  they  ought  to  get  here  by  to- 
morrow. Yu  tell  Jimmy  to  head  them  this 
way  when  they  shows  up  an'  I'll  have  th' 
claim  for  them.  There  ain't  no  use  of  yu 
fellers  gettin'  mixed  up  in  this.  Th'  bunch 
that's  comin'  can  clean  out  any  gang  this  side 
of  sunup,  an'  I  expects  they'll  shore  be  anxious 
to  begin  when  they  finds  me  eatin'  peaches  an' 
wastin'  my  time  shootin'  bums.  Yu  pass  th' 
198 


HOLDING  THE   CLAIM 

word  along  to  yore  friends,  an'  tell  them  to 
lay  low  an'  see  th'  Arory  Boerallis  hit  this 
town  with  its  tail  up.  Tell  Jimmy  to  do  it  up 
good  when  he  speaks  about  me  holdin'  th' 
claim — I  likes  to  see  Buck  an'  Red  fight  when 
they're  good  an'  mad." 

The  miner  laughed  and  slapped  Hopalong 
on  the  shoulder.  "  Yore  all  right,  youngster ! 
Yore  just  like  Buck  was  at  yore  age.  Say 
now,  I  reckons  he  wasn't  a  reg'lar  terror  on 
wheels !  Why,  I've  seen  him  do  more  foolish 
things  than  any  man  I  knows  of,  an'  I  calcu- 
late that  if  Buck  pals  with  yu  there  ain't  no 
water  in  yore  sand.  My  name's  Tom  Hallo- 
way,"  he  suggested. 

"  An'  mine's  Hopalong  Cassidy,"  was  the 
reply.  "  I've  heard  Buck  speak  of  yu." 

"  Has  yu  ?  Well,  don't  it  beat  all  how  lit- 
tle this  world  is  ?  Somebody  allus  turnin'  up 
that  knows  somebody  yu  knows.  I'll  just 
amble  along,  Mr.  Cassidy,  an'  don't  yu  be 
none  bashful  about  callin'  if  yu  needs  me. 
Any  pal  of  Buck's  is  my  friend.  Well,  so 
long,"  said  the  visitor  as  he  strode  off.  Then 
he  stopped  and  turned  around.  "  Hey,  mis- 
199 


BAR  — 20 


ter !  "  he  called.  "  They  are  goin'  to  roll  a 
fire  barrel  down  agin  yu  from  behind,"  indi- 
cating by  an  outstretched  arm  the  point  from 
where  it  would  start.  "  If  it  burns  yu  out 
I'm  goin'  to  take  a  hand  from  up  there," 
pointing  to  a  cluster  of  rocks  well  to  the  rear 
of  where  the  crowd  would  work  from,  "  an' 
I  don't  care  whether  yu  likes  it  or  not,"  he 
added  to  himself. 

Hopalong  scratched  his  head  and  then 
laughed.  Taking  up  a  pick  and  shovel,  he 
went  out  behind  the  cabin  and  dug  a  trench 
parallel  with  and  about  twenty  paces  away 
from  the  rear  wall.  Heaping  the  excavated 
dirt  up  on  the  near  side  of  the  cut,  he  stepped 
back  and  surveyed  his  labor  with  open  satis- 
faction. "Roll  yore  fire  barrel  an'  be  d ," 

he  muttered.  "  Mebby  she  won't  make  a 
bully  light  for  pot  shots,  though,"  he  added, 
grinning  at  the  execution  he  would  do. 

Taking  up  his  tools,  he  went  up  to  the  place 
from  where  the  gang  would  roll  the  barrel, 
and  made  half  a  dozen  mounds  of  twigs,  be- 
ing careful  to  make  them  very  flimsy.  Then 
he  covered  them  with  earth  and  packed  them 
200 


HOLDING  THE   CLAIM 

gently.  The  mounds  looked  very  tempting 
from  the  view-point  of  a  marksman  in  search 
of  earthworks,  and  appeared  capable  of  stop- 
ping any  rifle  ball  that  could  be  fired  against 
them.  Hopalong  looked  them  over  critically 
and  stepped  back. 

"  I'd  like  to  see  th'  look  on  th'  face  of  th' 
son-of-a-gun  that  uses  them  for  cover— won't 
he  be  surprised?"  and  he  grinned  gleefully 
as  he  pictured  his  shots  boring  through  them. 
Then  he  placed  in  the  center  of  each  a  chip 
or  a  pebble  or  something  that  he  thought 
would  show  up  well  in  the  firelight. 

Returning  to  the  cabin,  he  banked  it  up 
well  with  dirt  and  gravel,  and  tossed  a  few 
shovelfuls  up  on  the  roof  as  a  safety  valve  to 
his  exuberance.  When  he  entered  the  door 
he  had  another  idea,  and  fell  to  work  scoop- 
ing out  a  shallow  cellar,  deep  enough  to  shel- 
ter him  when  lying  at  full  length.  Then  he 
stuck  his  head  out  of  the  window  and  grinned 
at  the  false  covers  with  their  prominent  bull's- 
eyes. 

"  When  that  prize-winnin'  gang  of  ossified 
idiots  runs  up  agin'  these  fortifications  they 
201 


BAR  —  20 


shore  will  be  disgusted.  I'll  bet  four  dollars 
an'  seven  cents  they'll  think  their  medicine- 
man's no  good.  I  hopes  that  puff-eyed  mar- 
shal will  pick  out  that  hump  with  th'  chip  on 
it,"  and  he  hugged  himself  in  anticipation. 

He  then  cut  down  a  sapling  and  fastened  it 
to  the  roof  and  on  it  he  tied  his  neckkerchief, 
which  fluttered  valiantly  and  with  defiance  in 
the  light  breeze.  "  I  shore  hopes  they  appre- 
ciates that,"  he  remarked  whimsically,  as  he 
went  inside  the  hut  and  closed  the  door. 

The  early  part  of  the  evening  passed  in 
peace,  and  Hopalong,  tired  of  watching  in 
vain,  wished  for  action.  Midnight  came,  and 
it  was  not  until  half  an  hour  before  dawn  that 
he  was  attacked.  Then  a  noise  sent  him  to 
a  loophole,  where  he  fired  two  shots  at  skulk- 
ing figures  some  distance  off.  A  fusillade  of 
bullets  replied;  one  of  them  ripped  through 
the  door  at  a  weak  spot  and  drilled  a  hole  in 
a  can  of  the  everlasting  peaches.  Hopalong 
set  the  can  in  the  frying  pan  and  then  flitted 
from  loophole  to  loophole,  shooting  quick  and 
straight.  Several  curses  told  him  that  he  had 
not  missed,  and  he  scooped  up  a  finger  of 
202 


HOLDING  THE   CLAIM 

peach  juice.  Shots  thudded  into  the  walls  of 
his  fort  in  an  unceasing  stream,  and,  as  it 
grew  lighter,  several  whizzed  through  the 
loopholes.  He  kept  close  to  the  earth  and 
waited  for  the  rush,  and  when  it  came  sent 
it  back,  minus  two  of  its  members. 

As  he  reloaded  his  Colts  a  bullet  passed 
through  his  shirt  sleeve  and  he  promptly 
nailed  the  marksman.  He  looked  out  of  a 
crack  in  the  rear  wall  and  saw  the  top  of  an 
adjoining  hill  crowned  with  spectators,  all  of 
whom  were  armed.  Some  time  later  he  re- 
pulsed another  attack  and  heard  a  faint  cheer 
from  his  friends  on  the  hill.  Then  he  saw  a 
barrel,  blazing  from  end  to  end,  roll  out  from 
the  place  he  had  so  carefully  covered  with 
mounds.  It  gathered  speed  and  bounded 
over  the  rough  ground,  flashed  between  two 
rocks  and  leaped  into  the  trench,  where  it 
crackled  and  roared  in  vain. 

"  Now,"  said  Hopalong,  blazing  at  the 
mounds  as  fast  as  he  could  load  and  fire  his 
Sharp's,  "  we'll  just  see  what  yu  thinks  of 
yore  nice  little  covers." 

Yells  of  consternation  and  pain  rang  out  in 
203 


BAR  —  20 


a  swelling  chorus,  and  legs  and  arms  jerked 
and  flopped,  one  man,  in  his  astonishment  at 
the  shot  that  tore  open  his  cheek,  sitting  up 
in  plain  sight  of  the  marksman.  Roars  of 
rage  floated  up  from  the  main  body  of  the 
besiegers,  and  the  discomfited  remnant  of 
barrel-rollers  broke  for  real  cover. 

Then  he  stopped  another  rush  from  the 
front,  made  upon  the  supposition  that  he  was 
thinking  only  of  the  second  detachment.  A 
hearty  cheer  arose  from  Tom  Halloway  and 
his  friends,  ensconced  in  their  rocky  position, 
and  it  was  taken  up  by  those  on  the  hill,  who 
danced  and  yelled  their  delight  at  the  battle, 
to  them  more  humorous  than  otherwise. 

This  recognition  of  his  prowess  from  men 
of  the  caliber  of  his  audience  made  him  feel 
good,  and  he  grinned :  "Gee,  I'll  bet  Halloway 
an'  his  friends  is  shore  itchin'  to  get  in  this," 
he  murmured,  firing  at  a  head  that  was  shown 
for  an  instant.  "  Wonder  what  Red  '11  say 
when  Jimmy  tells  him — bet  he'll  plow  dust 
like  a  cyclone,"  and  Hopalong  laughed,  pic- 
turing to  himself  the  satiation  of  Red's  anger. 
u  Old  red-headed  son-of-a-gun,"  murmured 
204 


HOLDING  THE   CLAIM 

the  cowboy  affectionately,  "  he  shore  can 
fight." 

As  he  squinted  over  the  sights  of  his  rifle 
his  eye  caught  sight  of  a  moving  body  of  men 
as  they  cantered  over  the  flats  about  two  miles 
away.  In  his  eagerness  he  forgot  to  shoot 
and  carefully  counted  them.  "  Nine,"  he 
grumbled.  "Wonder  what's  th'  matter?" 
— fearing  that  they  were  not  his  friends. 
Then  a  second  body  numbering  eight  cantered 
into  sight  and  followed  the  first. 

"Whoop!  There's  th'  Red-head!"  he 
shouted,  dancing  in  his  joy.  "  Now,"  he 
shouted  at  the  peach  can  joyously,  "  yu  wait 
about  thirty  minutes  an'  yu'll  shore  reckon 
Hades  has  busted  loose !  " 

He  grabbed  up  his  Colts,  which  he  kept 
loaded  for  repelling  rushes,  and  recklessly 
emptied  them  into  the  bushes  and  between  the 
rocks  and  trees,  searching  every  likely  place 
for  a  human  target.  Then  he  slipped  his 
rifle  in  a  loophole  and  waited  for  good  shots, 
having  worked  off  the  dangerous  pressure  of 
his  exuberance. 

Soon  he  heard  a  yell  from  the  direction  of 
205 


BAR  —  20 


the  "  Miner's  Rest,"  and  fell  to  jamming 
cartridges  into  his  revolvers  so  that  he  could 
sally  out  and  join  in  the  fray  by  the  side  of 
Red. 

The  thunder  of  madly  pounding  hoofs 
rolled  up  the  trail,  and  soon  a  horse  and  rider 
shot  around  the  corner  and  headed  for  the 
copse.  Three  more  raced  close  behind  and 
then  a  bunch  of  six,  followed  by  the  rest, 
spread  out  and  searched  for  trouble. 

Red,  a  Colt  in  each  hand  and  hatless,  stood 
up  in  his  stirrups  and  sent  shot  after  shot  into 
the  fleeing  mob,  which  he  could  not  follow  on 
account  of  the  nature  of  the  ground.  Buck 
wheeled  and  dashed  down  the  trail  again  with 
Red  a  close  second,  the  others  packed  in  a 
solid  mass  and  after  them.  At  the  first  level 
stretch  the  newcomers  swept  down  and  hit 
their  enemies,  going  through  them  like  a  knife 
through  cheese.  Hopalong  danced  up  and 
down  with  rage  when  he  could  not  find  his 
horse,  and  had  to  stand  and  yell,  a  spectator. 

The  fight  drifted  in  among  the  buildings, 
where  it  became  a  series  of  isolated  duels,  and 
soon  Hopalong  saw  panic-stricken  horses  car- 
206 


HOLDING  THE  CLAIM 

rying  their  riders  out  of  the  other  side  of  the 
town.  Then  he  went  gunning  for  the  man 
who  had  rustled  his  horse.  He  was  unsuc- 
cessful and  returned  to  his  peaches. 

Soon  the  riders  came  up,  and  when  they 
saw  Hopalong  shove  a  peach  into  his  powder- 
grimed  mouth  they  yelled  their  delight 

"Yu  old  maverick  1  Eatin'  peaches  like  yu 
was  afraid  we'd  git  some!  "  shouted  Red  in- 
dignantly, leaping  down  and  running  up  to  his 
pal  as  though  to  thrash  him. 

Hopalong  grinned  pleasantly  and  fired  a 
peach  against  Red's  eye.  "  I  was  savin'  that 
one  for  yu,  Reddie,"  he  remarked,  as  he 
avoided  Buck's  playful  kick.  "  Yu  fellers  git 
to  work  an'  dig  up  some  wealth — I'm  hun- 
gry." Then  he  turned  to  Buck:  "Yore  th' 
marshal  of  this  town,  an'  any  son-of-a-gun 
what  don't  like  it  had  better  write.  Oh,  yes, 
here  comes  Tom  Halloway — 'member  him?  " 

Buck  turned  and  faced  the  miner  and  his 
hand  went  out  with  a  jerk. 

"  Well,  I'll  be  locoed  if  I  didn't  punch 
with  yu  on  th'  Tin-Cup  !  "  he  said. 

4  Yu  shore  did  an'  yu  was  purty  devilish, 
207 


BAR  —  20 


but  that  there  Cassidy  of  yourn  beats  any- 
thing I  ever  seen." 

"  He's  a  good  kid,"  replied  Buck,  glancing 
to  where  Red  and  Hopalong  were  quarreling 
as  to  who  had  eaten  the  most  pie  in  a  contest 
held  some  years  before. 

Johnny,  nosing  around,  came  upon  the  per- 
forated and  partially  scattered  piles  of  earth 
and  twigs,  and  vented  his  disgust  of  them  by 
kicking  them  to  pieces.  "Hey!  Hoppy! 
Oh,  Hoppy !  "  he  called,  "  what  are  these 
things?" 

Hopalong  jammed  Red's  hat  over  that 
person's  eyes  and  replied:  u  Oh,  them's  some 
loaded  dice  I  fixed  for  them." 

"  Yu  son-of-a-gun !  "  sputtered  Red,  as  he 
wrestled  with  his  friend  in  the  exuberance  of 
his  pride.  "  Yu  son-of-a-gun !  Yu  shore 
ought  to  be  ashamed  to  treat  'em  that  way !  " 

"Shore,"  replied  Hopalong.  "But  I 
ain't!" 


208 


CHAPTER    XII 

THE    HOSPITALITY   OF   TRAVENNES 

MR.  BUCK  PETERS  rode  into  Alkaline 
one  bright  September  morning  and 
sought  refreshment  at  the  Emporium.  Mr. 
Peters  had  just  finished  some  business  for  his 
employer  and  felt  the  satisfaction  that  comes 
with  the  knowledge  of  work  well  done.  He 
expected  to  remain  in  Alkaline  for  several 
days,  where  he  was  to  be  joined  by  two  of  his 
friends  and  punchers,  Mr.  Hopalong  Cas- 
sidy  and  Mr.  Red  Connors,  both  of  whom 
were  at  Cactus  Springs,  seventy  miles  to  the 
east.  Mr.  Cassidy  and  his  friend  had  just  fin- 
ished a  nocturnal  tour  of  Santa  Fe  and  felt 
somewhat  peevish  and  dull  in  consequence, 
not  to  mention  the  sadness  occasioned  by  the 
expenditure  of  the  greater  part  of  their  com- 
bined capital  on  such  foolishness  as  faro, 
roulette  and  wet-goods. 
209 


BAR  —  20 


Mr.  Peters  and  his  friends  had  sought 
wealth  in  the  Black  Hills,  where  they  had 
enthusiastically  disfigured  the  earth  in  the 
fond  expectation  of  uncovering  vast  stores  of 
virgin  gold.  Their  hopes  were  of  an  opti- 
mistic brand  and  had  existed  until  the  last 
canister  of  cornmeal  flour  had  been  emptied 
by  Mr.  Cassidy's  burro,  which  waited  not 
upon  its  master's  pleasure  nor  upon  the  ethics 
of  the  case.  When  Mr.  Cassidy  had  returned 
from  exercising  the  animal  and  himself  over 
two  miles  of  rocky  hillside  in  the  vain  en- 
deavor to  give  it  his  opinion  of  burros  and 
sundry  chastisements,  he  was  requested,  as 
owner  of  the  beast,  to  give  his  counsel  as  to 
the  best  way  of  securing  eighteen  breakfasts. 
Remembering  that  the  animal  was  headed 
north  when  he  last  saw  it  and  that  it  was  too 
old  to  eat,  anyway,  he  suggested  a  plan  which 
had  worked  successfully  at  other  times  for 
other  ends,  namely,  poker.  Mr.  McAllister, 
an  expert  at  the  great  American  game,  volun- 
teered his  service  in  accordance  with  the  spirit 
of  the  occasion  and,  half  an  hour  later,  he  and 
Mr.  Cassidy  drifted  into  Pell's  poker  parlors, 
210 


HOSPITALITY  OF  TRAVENNES 

which  were  located  in  the  rear 'of  a  Chinese 
laundry,  where  they  gathered  unto  themselves 
the  wherewithal  for  the  required  breakfasts. 
An  hour  spent  in  the  card  room  of  the  "  Hur- 
rah "  convinced  its  proprietor  that  they  had 
wasted  their  talents  for  the  past  six  weeks  in 
digging  for  gold.  The  proof  of  this  per- 
mitted the  departure  of  the  outfits  with  their 
customary  eclat. 

At  Santa  Fe  the  various  individuals  had 
gone  their  respective  ways,  to  reassemble  at 
the  ranch  in  the  near  future,  and  for  several 
days  they  had  been  drifting  south  in  groups  of 
twos  and  threes  and,  like  chaff  upon  a  stream, 
had  eddied  into  Alkaline,  where  Mr.  Peters 
had  found  them  arduously  engaged  in  post- 
poning the  final  journey.  After  he  had  glad- 
dened their  hearts  and  soothed  their  throats 
by  making  several  pithy  remarks  to  the  bar- 
tender, with  whom  he  established  their  credit, 
he  cautioned  them  against  letting  any  one 
harm  them  and,  smiling  at  the  humor  of  his 
warning,  left  abruptly. 

Cactus  Springs  was  burdened  with  a  zealous 
and   initiative    organization   known   as   vigi- 
211 


BAR  —  20 


lantes,  whose  duty  it  was  to  extend  the  cour- 
tesies of  the  land  to  cattle  thieves  and  the  like. 
This  organization  boasted  of  the  name  of 
Travennes'  Terrors  and  of  a  muster  roll  of 
twenty.  There  was  also  a  boast  that  no  one 
had  ever  escaped  them  which,  if  true,  was  in 
many  cases  unfortunate.  Mr.  Slim  Tra- 
vennes, with  whom  Mr.  Cassidy  had  partici- 
pated in  an  extemporaneous  exchange  of 
Colt's  courtesies  in  Santa  Fe  the  year  before, 
was  the  head  of  the  organization  and  was  also 
chairman  of  the  committee  on  arrivals,  and 
the  two  gentlemen  of  the  Bar— 20  had  not 
been  in  town  an  hour  before  he  knew  of  it. 
Being  anxious  to  show  the  strangers  every 
attention  and  having  a  keen  recollection  of  the 
brand  of  gun-play  commanded  by  Mr.  Cas- 
sidy, he  planned  a  smoother  method  of  pro- 
cedure and  one  calculated  to  permit  him  to 
enjoy  the  pleasures  of  a  good  old  age.  Mr. 
Travennes  knew  that  horse  thieves  were  re- 
garded as  social  enemies,  that  the  necessary 
proof  of  their  guilt  was  the  finding  of  stolen 
animals  in  their  possession,  that  death  was  the 
penalty  and  that  every  man,  whether  directly 
212 


HOSPITALITY  OF  TRAVENNES 

concerned  or  not,  regarded  himself  as  judge, 
jury  and  executioner.  He  had  several  ac- 
quaintances who  were  bound  to  him  by  his 
knowledge  of  crimes  they  had  committed  and 
who  could  not  refuse  his  slightest  wish.  Even 
if  they  had  been  free  agents  they  were  not 
above  causing  the  death  of  an  innocent  man. 
Mr.  Travennes,  feeling  very  self-satisfied  at 
his  cleverness,  arranged  to  have  the  proof 
placed  where  it  would  do  the  most  harm  and 
intended  to  take  care  of  the  rest  by  himself. 

Mr.  Connors,  feeling  much  refreshed  and 
very  hungry,  arose  at  daylight  the  next 
morning,  and  dressing  quickly,  started  off  to 
feed  and  water  the  horses.  After  having  sev- 
eral tilts  with  the  landlord  about  the  bucket 
he  took  his  departure  toward  the  corral  at  the 
rear.  Peering  through  the  gate,  he  could 
hardly  believe  his  eyes.  He  climbed  over  it 
and  inspected  the  animals  at  close  range,  and 
found  that  those  which  he  and  his  friend  had 
ridden  for  the  last  two  months  were  not  to 
be  seen,  but  in  their  places  were  two  better 
animals,  which  concerned  him  greatly.  Being 
fair  and  square  himself,  he  could  not  under- 
213 


BAR  —  20 


stand  the  change  and  sought  enlightenment  of 
his  more  imaginative  and  suspicious  friend. 

"  Hey,  Hopalong!"  he  called,  "  come  out 
here  an*  see  what  th'  devil  has  happened !  " 

Mr.  Cassidy  stuck  his  auburn  head  out  of 
the  wounded  shutter  and  complacently  sur- 
veyed his  companion.  Then  he  saw  the  horses 
and  looked  hard. 

"  Quit  yore  foolin',  yu  old  cuss,"  he  re- 
marked pleasantly,  as  he  groped  around  be- 
hind him  with  his  feet,  searching  for  his  boots. 
"  Anybody  would  think  yu  was  a  little  boy 
with  yore  fool  jokes.  Ain't  yu  ever  goin'  to 
grow  up?  " 

"  They've  got  our  bronchs,"  replied  Mr. 
Connors  in  an  injured  tone.  "  Honest,  I  ain't 
kiddin'  yu,"  he  added  for  the  sake  of  peace. 

"Who  has?"  came  from  the  window, 
followed  immediately  by,  "  Yu've  got  my 
boots!" 

"  I  ain't — they're  under  th'  bunk,"  contra- 
dicted and  explained  Mr.  Connors.  Then, 
turning  to  the  matter  in  his  mind  he  replied, 
"  I  don't  know  who's  got  them.  If  I  did  do 
yu  think  I'd  be  holdin'  hands  with  myself?  " 
214 


HOSPITALITY  OF  TRAVENNES 

"  Nobody' d  accuse  yu  of  anything  like 
that,"  came  from  the  window,  accompanied 
by  an  overdone  snicker. 

Mr.  Connors  flushed  under  his  accumulated 
tan  as  he  remembered  the  varied  pleasures  of 
Santa  Fe,  and  he  regarded  the  bronchos  in 
anything  but  a  pleasant  state  of  mind. 

Mr.  Cassidy  slid  through  the  window  and 
approached  his  friend,  looking  as  serious  as 
he  could. 

"  Any  tracks?  "  he  inquired,  as  he  glanced 
quickly  over  the  ground  to  see  for  himself. 

"  Not  after  that  wind  we  had  last  night. 
They  might  have  growed  there  for  all  I  can 
see,"  growled  Mr.  Connors. 

u  I  reckon  we  better  hold  a  pow-wow  with 
th?  foreman  of  this  shack  an'  find  out  what  he 
knows,"  suggested  Mr.  Cassidy.  "  This  looks 
too  good  to  be  a  swap." 

Mr.  Connors  looked  his  disgust  at  the  idea 
and  then  a  light  broke  in  upon  him.  "  Mebby 
they  was  hard  pushed  an'  wanted  fresh  cay- 
uses,"  he  said.  "  A  whole  lot  of  people  get 
hard  pushed  in  this  country.  Anyhow,  we'll 
prospect  th'  boss." 

215 


BAR  —  20 


They  found  the  proprietor  in  his  stocking 
feet,  getting  the  breakfast,  and  Mr.  Cassidy 
regarded  the  preparations  with  open  ap- 
proval. He  counted  the  tin  plates  and  found 
only  three,  and,  thinking  that  there  would  be 
more  plates  if  there  were  others  to  feed, 
glanced  into  the  landlord's  room.  Not  find- 
ing signs  of  other  guests,  on  whom  to  lay  the 
blame  for  the  loss  of  his  horse,  he  began  to 
ask  questions. 

"  Much  trade?  "  he  inquired  solicitously. 

"  Yep,"  replied  the  landlord. 

Mr.  Cassidy  looked  at  the  three  tins  and 
wondered  if  there  had  ever  been  any  more 
with  which  to  supply  his  trade.  "  Been  out 
this  morning?  "  he  pursued. 

"  Nope." 

"  Talks  purty  nigh  as  much  as  Buck," 
thought  Mr.  Cassidy,  and  then  said  aloud, 
"  Anybody  else  here?  " 

"  Nope." 

Mr.  Cassidy  lapsed  into  a  painful  and  dis- 
gusted silence  and  his  friend  tried  his  hand. 

'  Who  owns  a  mosaic  bronch,  Chinee  flag 
216 


HOSPITALITY  OF  TRAVENNES 

on  th'  near  side,  Skillet  brand?"  asked  Mr. 
Connors. 

"Quien  sabe?" 

"  Gosh,  he  can  nearly  keep  still  in  two 
lingoes,"  thought  Mr.  Cassidy. 

"  Who  owns  a  bob-tailed  pinto,  saddle- 
galled,  cast  in  th'  near  eye,  Star  Diamond 
brand,  white  stockin'  on  th'  off  front  prop, 
with  a  habit  of  scratchin'  itself  every  other 
minute?  "  went  on  Mr.  Connors. 

u  Slim  Travennes,"  replied  the  proprietor, 
flopping  a  flapjack. 

Mr.  Cassidy  reflectively  scratched  the  back 
of  his  hand  and  looked  innocent,  but  his  mind 
was  working  overtime. 

"Who's  Slim  Travennes?"  asked  Mr. 
Connors,  never  having  heard  of  that  person, 
owing  to  the  reticence  of  his  friend. 

"  Captain  of  th'  vigilantes." 

u  What  does  he  look  like  on  th'  general 
run?  "  blandly  inquired  Mr.  Cassidy,  wishing 
to  verify  his  suspicions.  He  thought  of  the 
trouble  he  had  with  Mr.  Travennes  up  in 
Santa  Fe  and  of  the  reputation  that  gentleman 
217 


BAR  —  20 


possessed.  Then  the  fact  that  Mr.  Travennes 
was  the  leader  of  the  local  vigilantes  came  to 
his  assistance  and  he  was  sure  that  the  captain 
had  a  hand  in  the  change.  All  these  points 
existed  in  misty  groups  in  his  mind,  but  the 
next  remark  of  the  landlord  caused  them  to 
rush  together  and  reveal  the  plot. 

"  Good,"  said  the  landlord,  flopping  an- 
other flapjack,  "  and  a  warnin'  to  hoss 
thieves." 

"  Ahem,"  coughed  Mr.  Cassidy  and  then 
continued,  "  is  he  a  tall,  lanky,  yaller-headed 
son-of-a-gun,  with  a  big  nose  an'  lots  of 
ears?" 

"  Mebby  so,"  answered  the  host. 

"  Um,  slopping  over  into  bad  Sioux," 
thought  Mr.  Cassidy,  and  then  said  aloud, 
"  How  long  has  he  hung  around  this  here 
layout?  "  at  the  same  time  passing  a  warning 
glance  at  his  companion. 

The  landlord  straightened  up.  "  Look 
here,  stranger,  if  yu  hankers  after  his  pedigree 
so  all-fired  hard  yu  had  best  pump  him." 

"  I  told  yu  this  here  feller  wasn't  a  man 
what  would  give  away  all  he  knowed,"  lied 
218 


HOSPITALITY  OF  TRAVENNES 

Mr.  Connors,  turning  to  his  friend  and  indi- 
cating the  host.  "  He  ain't  got  time  for  that. 
Anybody  can  see  that  he  is  a  powerful  busy 
man.  An'  then  he  ain't  no  child." 

Mr.  Cassidy  thought  that  the  landlord 
could  tell  all  he  knew  in  about  five  minutes 
and  then  not  break  any  speed  records  for  con- 
versation, but  he  looked  properly  awed  and 
impressed.  "  Well,  yu  needn't  go  an'  get  mad 
about  it!  I  didn't  know,  did  I?  " 

"  Who's  gettin'  mad?  "  pugnaciously  asked 
Mr.  Connors.  After  his  injured  feelings  had 
been  soothed  by  Mr.  Cassidy's  sullen  silence 
he  again  turned  to  the  landlord. 

"  What  did  this  Travennes  look  like  when 
yu  saw  him  last?"  coaxed  Mr.  Connors. 

"  Th'  same  as  he  does  now,  as  yu  can  see 
by  lookin'  out  of  th'  window.  That's  him 
down  th'  street,"  enlightened  the  host,  thaw- 
ing to  the  pleasant  Mr.  Connors. 

Mr.  Cassidy  adopted  the  suggestion  and 
frowned.  Mr.  Travennes  and  two  compan- 
ions were  walking  toward  the  corral  and  Mr. 
Cassidy  once  again  slid  out  of  the  window, 
his  friend  going  by  the  door. 
219 


CHAPTER   XIII 

TRAVENNES'    DISCOMFITURE 

WHEN  Mr.  Travennes  looked  over  the 
corral  fence  he  was  much  chagrined 
to  see  a  man  and  a  Colt's  .45,  both  paying 
strict  attention  to  his  nose. 

"  Mornin',  Duke,"  said  the  man  with  the 
gun.  "  Lose  anything?  " 

Mr.  Travennes  looked  back  at  his  friends 
and  saw  Mr.  Connors  sitting  on  a  rock  hold- 
ing two  guns.  Mr.  Travennes'  right  and  left 
wings  were  the  targets  and  they  pitted  their 
frowns  against  Mr.  Connors'  smile. 

"  Not  that  I  knows  of,"  replied  Mr.  Tra- 
vennes, shifting  his  feet  uneasily. 

"  Find  anything?  "  came  from  Mr.  Cassidy 
as  he  sidled  out  of  the  gate. 

"  Nope,"  replied  the  captain  of  the  Ter- 
rors, eying  the  Colt. 

"  Are  yu  in  th'  habit  of  payin'  early  morn- 
220 


TRAVENNES'    DISCOMFITURE 

in'  calls  to  this  here  corral  ?"  persisted  Mr. 
Cassidy,  playing  with  the  gun. 

"  Ya-as.  That's  my  business — I'm  th'  cap- 
tain of  th'  vigilantes." 

"  That's  too  bad,"  sympathized  Mr.  Cas- 
sidy, moving  forward  a  step. 

Mr.  Travennes  looked  put  out  and  backed 
off.  "  What  yu  mean,  stickin'  me  up  this- 
away?  "  he  asked  indignantly. 

"  Yu  needn't  go  an'  get  mad,"  responded 
Mr.  Cassidy.  "  Just  business.  Yore  cayuse 
an'  another  shore  climbed  this  corral  fence 
last  night  an'  ate  up  our  bronchs,  an'  I  just 
nachurlly  want  to  know  about  it." 

Mr.  Travennes  looked  his  surprise  and  in- 
credulity and  craned  his  neck  to  see  for  him- 
self. When  he  saw  his  horse  peacefully 
scratching  itself  he  swore  and  looked  angrily 
up  the  street.  Mr.  Connors,  behind  the 
shack,  was  hidden  to  the  view  of  those  on 
the  street,  and  when  two  men  ran  up  at  a 
signal  from  Mr.  Travennes,  intending  to  in- 
sert themselves  in  the  misunderstanding,  they 
were  promptly  lined  up  with  the  first  two  by 
the  man  on  the  rock. 

221 


BAR  —  20 


"  Sit  down,"  invited  Mr.  Connors,  push- 
ing a  chunk  of  air  out  of  the  way  with  his 
guns.  The  last  two  felt  a  desire  to  talk  and 
to  argue  the  case  on  its  merits,  but  refrained 
as  the  black  holes  in  Mr.  Connors'  guns 
hinted  at  eruption.  "  Every  time  yu  opens 
yore  mouths  yu  gets  closer  to  th'  Great 
Divide,"  enlightened  that  person,  and  they 
were  childlike  in  their  belief. 

Mr.  Travennes  acted  as  though  he  would 
like  to  scratch  his  thigh  where  his  Colt's 
chafed  him,  but  postponed  the  event  and  lis- 
tened to  Mr.  Cassidy,  who  was  asking 
questions. 

"  Where's  our  cayuses,  General?  " 

Mr.  Travennes  replied  that  he  didn't 
know.  He  was  worried,  for  he  feared  that 
his  captor  didn't  have  a  secure  hold  on  the 
hammer  of  the  ubiquitous  Colt's. 

"  Where's  my  cayuse?  "  persisted  Mr.  Cas- 
sidy. 

"  I  don't  know,  but  I  wants  to  ask  yu  how 
yu  got  mine,"  replied  Mr.  Travennes. 

"  Yu  tell  me  how  mine  got  out  an'  I'll  tell 
yu  how  yourn  got  in,"  countered  Mr.  Cassidy. 
222 


TRAVENNES'    DISCOMFITURE 

Mr.  Connors  added  another  to  his  collec- 
tion before  the  captain  replied. 

"  Out  in  this  country  people  get  in  trouble 
when  they're  found  with  other  folks'  cayuses," 
Mr.  Travennes  suggested. 

Mr.  Cassidy  looked  interested  and  replied : 
u  Yu  shore  ought  to  borrow  some  experience, 
an'  there's  lots  floating  around.  More  than 
one  man  has  smoked  in  a  powder  mill,  an'  th' 
number  of  them  planted  who  looked  in  th' 
muzzle  of  a  empty  gun  is  scandalous.  If  my 
remarks  don't  perculate  right  smart  I'll  ex- 
plain." 

Mr.  Travennes  looked  down  the  street 
again,  saw  number  five  added  to  the  line-up, 
and  coughed  up  chunks  of  broken  profanity, 
grieving  his  host  by  his  lack  of  courtesy. 

"  Time,"  announced  Mr.  Cassidy,  inter- 
rupting the  round.  "  I  wants  them  cayuses 
an'  I  wants  'em  right  now.  Yu  an'  me  will 
amble  off  an'  get  'em.  I  won't  bore  yu  with 
tellin'  yu  what'll  happen  if  yu  gets  skittish. 
Slope  along  an'  don't  be  scared;  I'm  with  yu," 
assured  Mr.  Cassidy  as  he  looked  over  at  Mr. 
Connors,  whose  ascetic  soul  pined  for  the  flap- 
223 


BAR  —  20 


jacks  of  which  his  olfactories  caught  inter- 
mittent whiffs. 

"  Well,  Red,  I  reckons  yu  has  got  plenty  of 
room  out  here  for  all  yu  may  corral;  anyhow 
there  ain't  a  whole  lot  more.  My  friend 
Slim  an'  I  are  shore  going  to  have  a  devil  of 
a  time  if  we  can't  find  them  cussed  bronchs. 
Whew,  them  flapjacks  smell  like  a  plain  trail 
to  payday.  Just  think  of  th'  nice  maple  juice 
we  used  to  get  up  to  Cheyenne  on  them  frosty 
mornings." 

"  Get  out  of  here  an7  lemme  alone !  What 
do  yu  allus  want  to  go  an'  make  a  feller  un- 
happy for?  Can't  yu  keep  still  about  grub 
when  yu  knows  I  ain't  had  my  morning's  feed 
yet?  "  asked  Mr.  Connors,  much  aggrieved. 

"  Well,  I'll  be  back  directly  an'  I'll  have 
them  cayuses  or  a  scalp.  Yu  tend  to  business 
an'  watch  th'  herd.  That  shorthorn  yearling 
at  th'  end  of  th'  line" — pointing  to  a  young 
man  who  looked  capable  of  taking  risks — 
"  he  looks  like  he  might  take  a  chance  an' 
gamble  with  yu,"  remarked  Mr.  Cassidy, 
placing  Mr.  Travennes  in  front  of  him  and 
pushing  back  his  own  sombrero.  "  Don't  put 
224 


TRAVENNES'    DISCOMFITURE 

too  much  maple  juice  on  them  flapjacks,  Red," 
he  warned  as  he  poked  his  captive  in  the  back 
of  the  neck  as  a  hint  to  get  along.  Fortu- 
nately Mr.  Connors'  closing  remarks  are  lost 
to  history. 

Observing  that  Mr.  Travennes  headed 
south  on  the  quest,  Mr.  Cassidy  reasoned  that 
the  missing  bronchos  ought  to  be  somewhere 
in  the  north,  and  he  postponed  the  southern 
trip  until  such  time  when  they  would  have 
more  leisure  at  their  disposal.  Mr.  Tra- 
vennes showed  a  strong  inclination  to  shy  at 
this  arrangement,  but  quieted  down  under 
persuasion,  and  they  started  off  toward  where 
Mr.  Cassidy  firmly  believed  the  North  Pole 
and  the  cayuses  to  be. 

"  Yu  has  got  quite  a  metropolis  here," 
pleasantly  remarked  Mr.  Cassidy  as  under  his 
direction  they  made  for  a  distant  corral.  "  I 
can  see  four  different  types  of  architecture, 
two  of  'em  on  one  residence,"  he  continued 
as  they  passed  a  wood  and  adobe  hut.  "  No 
doubt  the  railroad  will  put  a  branch  down 
here  some  day  an'  then  yu  can  hire  their  old 
cars  for  yore  public  buildings.  Then  when 
225 


BAR  —  20 


yu  gets  a  postoffice  yu  will  shore  make  Chi- 
cago hustle  some  to  keep  her  end  up.  Let's 
assay  that  hollow  for  horsehide;  it  looks 
promisinV 

The  hollow  was  investigated  but  showed 
nothing  other  than  cactus  and  baked  alkali. 
The  corral  came  next,  and  there  too  was  emp- 
tiness. For  an  hour  the  search  was  unavail- 
ing, but  at  the  end  of  that  time  Mr.  Cassidy 
began  to  notice  signs  of  nervousness  on  the 
part  of  his  guest,  which  grew  less  as  they 
proceeded.  Then  Mr.  Cassidy  retraced  their 
steps  to  the  place  where  the  nervousness  first 
developed  and  tried  another  way  and  once 
more  returned  to  the  starting  point. 

"  Yu  seems  to  hanker  for  this  fool  exer- 
cise," quoth  Mr.  Travennes  with  much  sar- 
casm. "  If  yu  reckons  I'm  fond  of  this  locoed 
ramblin*  yu  shore  needs  enlightenment." 

"  Sometimes  I  do  get  these  fits,"  confessed 
Mr.  Cassidy,  "  an'  when  I  do  I'm  dead  sore 
on  objections.  Let's  peek  in  that  there  hut," 
he  suggested. 

"  Huh ;  yore  ideas  of  cayuses  are  mighty 
peculiar.  Why  don't  you  look  for  'em  up  on 
226 


TRAVENNES'    DISCOMFITURE 

those  cactuses  or  behind  that  mesquite?  / 
wouldn't  be  a  heap  surprised  if  they  was 
roostin'  on  th'  roof.  They  are  mighty 
knowing  animals,  cayuses.  I  once  saw  one 
that  could  figger  like  a  schoolmarm,"  re- 
marked Mr.  Travennes,  beginning  sarcastic- 
ally and  toning  it  down  as  he  proceeded,  out 
of  respect  for  his  companion's  gun. 

"  Well,  they  might  be  in  th'  shack,"  re- 
plied Mr.  Cassidy.  "  Cayuses  know  so  much 
that  it  takes  a  month  to  unlearn  them.  I 
wouldn't  like  to  bet  they  ain't  in  that  hut, 
though." 

Mr.  Travennes  snickered  in  a  manner  de- 
cidedly uncomplimentary  and  began  to  whis- 
tle, softly  at  first.  The  gentleman  from  the 
Bar— 20  noticed  that  his  companion  was  a 
musician ;  that  when  he  came  to  a  strong  part 
he  increased  the  tones  until  they  bid  to  be 
heard  at  several  hundred  yards.  When  Mr. 
Travennes  had  reached  a  most  passionate  part 
in  "  Juanita  "  and  was  expanding  his  lungs 
to  do  it  justice  he  was  rudely  stopped  by  the 
insistent  pressure  of  his  guard's  Colt's  on  the 
most  ticklish  part  of  his  ear. 
227 


BAR  —  20 


"  I  shore  wish  yu  wouldn't  strain  yoreself 
thataway,"  said  Mr.  Cassidy,  thinking  that 
Mr.  Travennes  might  be  endeavoring  to  call 
assistance.  "  I  went  an'  promised  my  mother 
on  her  deathbed  that  I  wouldn't  let  nobody 
whistle  out  loud  like  that,  an1  th'  opery  is 
hereby  stopped.  Besides,  somebody  might 
hear  them  mournful  tones  an'  think  that  some- 
thing is  th'  matter,  which  it  ain't." 

Mr.  Travennes  substituted  heartfelt  curs- 
ing, all  of  which  was  heavily  accented. 

As  they  approached  the  hut  Mr.  Cassidy 
again  tickled  his  prisoner  and  insisted  that  he 
be  very  quiet,  as  his  cayuse  was  very  sensitive 
to  noise  and  it  might  be  there.  Mr.  Cassidy 
still  thought  Mr.  Travennes  might  have 
friends  in  the  hut  and  wouldn't  for  the  world 
disturb  them,  as  he  would  present  a  splendid 
target  as  he  approached  the  building. 


228 


CHAPTER    XIV 
THE   TALE   OF   A   CIGARETTE 


open  door  revealed  three  men  asleep 
A  on  the  earthen  floor,  two  of  whom  were 
Mexicans.  Mr.  Cassidy  then  for  the  first 
time  felt  called  upon  to  relieve  his  companion 
of  the  Colt's  which  so  sorely  itched  that  gen- 
tleman's thigh  and  then  disarmed  the  sleeping 
guards. 

"  One  man  an'  a  half,"  murmured  Mr. 
Cassidy,  it  being  in  his  creed  that  it  took  four 
"  Greasers  "  to  make  one  Texan. 

In  the  far  corner  of  the  room  were  two 
bronchos,  one  of  which  tried  in  vain  to  kick 
Mr.  Cassidy,  not  realizing  that  he  was  ten 
feet  away.  The  noise  awakened  the  sleepers, 
who  sat  up  and  then  sprang  to  their  feet,  their 
hands  instinctively  streaking  to  their  thighs 
for  the  weapons  which  peeked  contentedly 
from  the  bosom  of  Mr.  Cassidy's  open  shirt. 
One  of  the  Mexicans  made  a  lightning-like 
229 


BAR  —  20 


grab  for  the  back  of  his  neck  for  the  knife 
which  lay  along  his  spine  and  was  shot  in  the 
front  of  his  neck  for  his  trouble.  The  shot 
spoiled  his  aim,  as  the  knife  flashed  past  Mr. 
Cassidy' s  arm,  wide  by  two  feet,  and  thudded 
into  the  door  frame,  where  it  hummed  angrily. 

"  Th'  only  man  who  could  do  that  right 
was  th'  man  who  invented  it,  Mr.  Bowie,  of 
Texas,"  explained  Mr.  Cassidy  to  the  other 
Mexican.  Then  he  glanced  at  the  broncho, 
that  was  squealing  in  rage  and  fear  at  the 
shot,  which  sounded  like  a  cannon  in  the  small 
room,  and  laughed. 

"  That's  my  cayuse  all  right,  an'  he  wasn't 
up  no  cactus  nor  roostin'  on  th'  roof,  neither. 
He's  th'  most  affectionate  beast  I  ever  saw. 
It  took  me  nigh  onto  six  months  afore  I  could 
ride  him  without  fighting  him  to  a  standstill," 
said  Mr.  Cassidy  to  his  guest.  Then  he 
turned  to  the  horse  and  looked  it  over. 
"  Come  here !  What  d'yu  mean,  acting  that- 
away?  Yu  ragged  end  of  nothin'  wobbling 
in  space !  Yu  wall-eyed,  ornery,  locoed  guide 
to  Hades !  Yu  won't  be  so  frisky  when  yu've 
made  them  seventy  hot  miles  between  here 
230 


THE  TALE  OF  A  CIGARETTE 

an'  Alkaline  in  five  hours,"  he  promised,  as  he 
made  his  way  toward  the  animal. 

Mr.  Travennes  walked  over  to  the  opposite 
wall  and  took  down  a  pouch  of  tobacco  which 
hung  from  a  peg.  He  did  this  in  a  manner 
suggesting  ownership,  and  after  he  had  deftly 
rolled  a  cigarette  with  one  hand  he  put  the 
pouch  in  his  pocket  and,  lighting  up,  inhaled 
deeply  and  with  much  satisfaction.  Mr.  Cas- 
sidy  turned  around  and  glanced  the  group 
over,  wondering  if  the  tobacco  had  been  left 
in  the  hut  on  a  former  call. 

"  Did  yu  find  yore  makings?"  he  asked, 
with  a  note  of  congratulation  in  his  voice. 

"Yep.  Want  one?"  asked  Mr.  Trav- 
ennes. 

Mr.  Cassidy  ignored  the  offer  and  turned 
to  the  guard  whom  he  had  found  asleep. 

"  Is  that  his  tobacco?  "  he  asked,  and  the 
guard,  anxious  to  make  everything  run 
smoothly,  told  the  truth  and  answered: 
"  Shore.  He  left  it  here  last  night,"  where- 
upon Mr.  Travennes  swore  and  Mr.  Cassidy 
smiled  grimly. 

"  Then  yu  knows  how  yore  cayuse  got 
231 


BAR  — •  20 


in  an'  how  mine  got  out,"  said  the  latter. 
"  I  wish  yu  would  explain,"  he  added,  fond- 
ling his  Colt's. 

Mr.  Travennes  frowned  and  remained 
silent. 

"  I  can  tell  yu,  anyhow,"  continued  Mr. 
Cassidy,  still  smiling,  but  his  eyes  and  jaw 
belied  the  smile.  "  Yu  took  them  cayuses 
out  because  yu  wanted  yourn  to  be  found  in 
their  places.  Yu  remembered  Santa  Fe  an' 
it  rankled  in  yu.  Not  being  man  enough 
to  notify  me  that  yu'd  shoot  on  sight  an' 
being  afraid  my  friends  would  get  yu  if  yu 
plugged  me  on  th'  sly,  yu  tried  to  make  out 
that  me  an'  Red  rustled  yore  cayuses.  That 
meant  a  lynching  with  me  an'  Red  in  th' 
places  of  honor.  Yu  never  saw  Red  afore, 
but  yu  didn't  care  if  he  went  with  me.  Yu 
don't  deserve  fair  play,  but  I'm  going  to  give 
it  to  yu  because  I  don't  want  anybody  to  say 
that  any  of  th'  Bar— 20  ever  murdered  a 
man,  not  even  a  skunk  like  yu.  My  friends 
have  treated  me  too  square  for  that.  Yu  can 
take  this  gun  an'  yu  can  do  one  of  three 
things  with  it,  which  are:  walk  out  in  th' 
232 


THE  TALE  OF  A  CIGARETTE 

open  a  hundred  paces  an'  then  turn  an'  walk 
toward  me — after  you  face  me  yu  can  set 
it  a-going  whenever  yu  want  to ;  th'  second  is, 
put  it  under  yore  hat  an'  I'll  put  mine  an' 
th'  others  back  by  th'  cayuses.  Then  we'll 
toss  up  an'  th'  lucky  man  gets  it  to  use  as  he 
wants.  Th'  third  is,  shoot  yourself." 

Mr.  Cassidy  punctuated  the  close  of  his 
ultimatum  by  handing  over  the  weapon,  muz- 
zle first,  and,  because  the  other  might  be  an 
adept  at  "  twirling,"  he  kept  its  recipient 
covered  during  the  operation.  Then,  placing 
his  second  Colt's  with  the  captured  weapons, 
he  threw  them  through  the  door,  being  very 
careful  not  to  lose  the  drop  on  his  now  armed 
prisoner. 

Mr.  Travennes  looked  around  and  wiped 
the  sweat  from  his  forehead,  and  being  an 
observant  gentleman,  took  the  proffered 
weapon  and  walked  to  the  east,  directly  to- 
ward the  sun,  which  at  this  time  was  half- 
way to  the  meridian.  The  glare  of  its 
straight  rays  and  those  reflected  from  the 
shining  sand  would,  in  a  measure,  bother  Mr. 
Cassidy  and  interfere  with  the  accuracy  of 
233 


BAR  —  20 


his  aim,  and  he  was  always  thankful  for  small 
favors. 

Mr.  Travennes  was  the  possessor  of  accu- 
rate knowledge  regarding  the  lay  of  the  land, 
and  the  thought  came  to  him  that  there  was 
a  small  but  deep  hole  out  toward  the  east 
and  that  it  was  about  the  required  distance 
away.  This  had  been  dug  by  a  man  who  had 
labored  all  day  in  the  burning  sun  to  make 
an  oven  so  that  he  could  cook  mesquite  root 
in  the  manner  he  had  seen  the  Apaches  cook 
it.  Mr.  Travennes  blessed  hobbies,  specific 
and  general,  stumbled  thoughtlessly  and  dis- 
appeared from  sight  as  the  surprised  Mr. 
Cassidy  started  forward  to  offer  his  assist- 
ance. Upon  emphatic  notification  from  the 
man  in  the  hole  that  his  help  was  not  needed, 
Mr.  Cassidy  ^heeled  around  and  in  great 
haste  covered  the  distance  separating  him 
from  the  hut,  whereupon  Mr.  Travennes 
swore  in  self-congratulation  and  regret.  Mr. 
Cassidy's  shots  barked  a  cactus  which  leaned 
near  Mr.  Travennes'  head  and  flecked  several 
clouds  of  alkali  near  that  person's  nose,  caus- 
ing him  to  sneeze,  duck,  and  grin. 
234 


THE  TALE  OF  A  CIGARETTE 

"  It's  his  own  gun,"  grumbled  Mr.  Cas- 
sidy  as  a  bullet  passed  through  his  sombrero, 
having  in  mind  the  fact  that  his  opponent 
had  a  whole  belt  full  of  .41 's.  If  it  had  been 
Mr.  Cassidy's  gun  that  had  been  handed  over 
he  would  have  enjoyed  the  joke  on  Mr.  Trav- 
ennes,  who  would  have  had  five  cartridges 
between  himself  and  the  promised  eternity, 
as  he  would  have  been  unable  to  use  the  .41*8 
in  Mr.  Cassidy's  .45,  while  the  latter  would 
have  gladly  consented  to  the  change,  having 
as  he  did  an  extra  .45.  Never  before  had 
Mr.  Cassidy  looked  with  reproach  upon  his 
.45  caliber  Colt's,  and  he  sighed  as  he  used 
it  to  notify  Mr.  Travennes  that  arbitration 
was  not  to  be  considered,  which  that  person 
indorsed,  said  indorsement  passing  so  close 
to  Mr.  Cassidy's  ear  that  he  felt  the  breeze 
made  by  it. 

"  He's  been  practicin'  since  I  plugged  him 
up  in  Santa  Fe,"  thought  Mr.  Cassidy,  as  he 
retired  around  the  hut  to  formulate  a  plan 
of  campaign. 

Mr.  Travennes  sang  "  Hi-le,  hi-lo,"  and 
other  selections,  principally  others,  and  won- 

235 


BAR  —  20 


dered  how  Mr.  Cassidy  could  hoist  him  out. 
The  slack  of  his  belt  informed  him  that  he 
was  in  the  middle  of  a  fast,  and  suggested 
starvation  as  the  derrick  that  his  honorable 
and  disgusted  adversary  might  employ. 

Mr.  Cassidy,  while  figuring  out  his  method 
of  procedure,  absent-mindedly  jabbed  a  fin- 
ger in  his  eye,  and  the  ensuing  tears  floated 
an  idea  to  him.  He  had  always  had  great 
respect  for  ricochet  shots  since  his  friend 
Skinny  Thompson  had  proved  their  worth 
on  the  hides  of  Sioux.  If  he  could  disturb 
the  sand  and  convey  several  grains  of  it  to 
Mr.  Travennes'  eyes  the  game  would  be  much 
simplified.  While  planning  for  the  proposed 
excavation,  a  la  Colt's,  he  noticed  several 
stones  lying  near  at  hand,  and  a  new  and  bet- 
ter scheme  presented  itself  for  his  considera- 
tion. If  Mr.  Travennes  could  be  persuaded 
to  get  out  of — well,  it  was  worth  trying. 

Mr.  Cassidy  lined  up  his  gloomy  collec- 
tion and  tersely  ordered  them  to  turn  their 
backs  to  him  and  to  stay  in  that  position,  the 
suggestion  being  that  if  they  looked  around 
they  wouldn't  be  able  to  dodge  quickly 
236 


THE  TALE  OF  A  CIGARETTE 

enough.  He  then  slipped  bits  of  his  lariat 
over  their  wrists  and  ankles,  tying  wrists  to 
ankles  and  each  man  to  his  neighbor.  That 
finished  to  his  satisfaction,  he  dragged  them 
in  the  hut  to  save  them  from  the  burning  rays 
of  the  sun.  Having  performed  this  act  of 
kindness,  he  crept  along  the  hot  sand,  tak- 
ing advantage  of  every  bit  of  cover  afforded, 
and  at  last  he  reached  a  point  within  a  hun- 
dred feet  of  the  besieged.  During  the  trip 
Mr.  Travennes  sang  to  his  heart's  content, 
some  of  the  words  being  improvised  for  the 
occasion  and  were  not  calculated  to  increase 
Mr.  Cassidy's  respect  for  his  own  wisdom  if 
he  should  hear  them.  Mr.  Cassidy  heard;* 
however,  and  several  fragments  so  forcibly 
intruded  on  his  peace  of  mind  that  he  deter- 
mined to  put  on  the  last  verse  himself  and  to 
suit  himself. 

Suddenly  Mr.  Travennes  poked  his  head 
up  and  glanced  at  the  hut.  He  was  down 
again  so  quickly  that  there  was  no  chance 
for  a  shot  at  him  and  he  believed  that  his 
enemy  was  still  sojourning  in  the  rear  of  the 
building,  which  caused  him  to  fear  that  he 
237 


BAR  —  20 


was  expected  to  live  on  nothing  as  long  as  he 
could  and  then  give  himself  up.  Just  to 
show  his  defiance  he  stretched  himself  out 
on  his  back  and  sang  with  all  his  might,  his 
sombrero  over  his  face  to  keep  the  glare  of 
the  sun  out  of  his  eyes.  He  was  interrupted, 
however,  forgot  to  finish  a  verse  as  he  had 
intended,  and  jumped  to  one  side  as  a  stone 
bounced  off  his  leg.  Looking  up,  he  saw 
another  missile  curve  into  his  patch  of  sky 
and  swiftly  bear  down  on  him.  He  avoided 
it  by  a  hair's  breadth  and  wondered  what 
had  happened.  Then  what  Mr.  Travennes 
thought  was  a  balloon,  being  unsophisticated 
in  matters  pertaining  to  aerial  navigation, 
swooped  down  upon  him  and  smote  him  on 
the  shoulder  and  also  bounced  off.  Mr. 
Travennes  hastily  laid  music  aside  and  took 
up  elocution  as  he  dodged  another  stone  and 
wished  that  the  mesquite-loving  crank  had 
put  on  a  roof.  In  evading  the  projectile  he 
let  his  sombrero  appear  on  a  level  with  the 
desert,  and  the  hum  of  a  bullet  as  it  passed 
through  his  head-gear  and  into  the  opposite 
238 


THE  TALE  OF  A  CIGARETTE 

wall  made  him  wish  that  there  had  been 
constructed  a  cellar,  also. 

"  Hi-le,  hi-lo  "  intruded  upon  his  ear,  as 
Mr.  Cassidy  got  rid  of  the  surplus  of  his 
heart's  joy.  Another  stone  the  size  of  a 
man's  foot  shaved  Mr.  Travennes'  ear  and 
he  hugged  the  side  of  the  hole  nearest  his 
enemy. 

"Hibernate,  blank  yu!"  derisively  shouted 
the  human  catapult  as  he  released  a  chunk 
of  sandstone  the  size  of  a  quail.  "  Draw  in 
yore  laigs  an'  buck,"  was  his  God-speed  to 
the  missile. 

"  Hey,  yu !  "  indignantly  yowled  Mr. 
Travennes  from  his  defective  storm  cellar. 
"  Don't  yu  know  any  better'n  to  heave  things 
thataway?  " 

"  Hi-le,  hi-lo,"  sang  Mr.  Cassidy,  as  an- 
other stone  soared  aloft  in  the  direction  of 
the  complainant.  Then  he  stood  erect  and 
awaited  results  with  a  Colt's  in  his  hand 
leveled  at  the  rim  of  the  hole.  A  hat  waved 
and  an  excited  voice  bit  off  chunks  of  expostu- 
lation and  asked  for  an  armistice.  Then  two 

239 


BAR  — 20 


hands  shot  up  and  Mr.  Travennes,  sore  and 
disgusted  and  desperate,  popped  his  head  up 
and  blinked  at  Mr.  Cassidy's  gun. 

"  Yu  was  fillin'  th'  hole  up,"  remarked 
Mr.  Travennes  in  an  accusing  tone,  hiding 
the  real  reason  for  his  evacuation.  "  In  a 
little  while  I'd  a  been  th'  top  of  a  pile  in- 
stead of  th'  bottom  of  a  hole,"  he  announced, 
crawling  out  and  rubbing  his  head. 

Mr.  Cassidy  grinned  and  ordered  his  pris- 
oner to  one  side  while  he  secured  the  weapon 
which  lay  in  the  hole.  Having  obtained  it 
as  quickly  as  possible  he  slid  it  in  his  open 
shirt  and  clambered  out  again. 

"  Yu  remind  me  of  a  feller  I  used  to 
know,"  remarked  Mr.  Travennes,  as  he  led 
the  way  to  the  hut,  trying  not  to  limp.  "  Only 
he  throwed  dynamite.  That  was  th'  way  he 
cleared  off  chaparral — blowed  it  off.  He  got 
so  used  to  heaving  away  everything  he  lit 
that  he  spoiled  three  pipes  in  two  days." 

Mr.   Cassidy  laughed  at  the   fiction   and 
then  became  grave  as  he  pictured  Mr.  Con- 
nors sitting  on  the  rock  and  facing  down  a 
240 


THE  TALE  OF  A  CIGARETTE 

line  of  men,  any  one  of  whom  was  capable 
of  his  destruction  if  given  the  interval  of  a 
second. 

When  they  arrived  at  the  hut  Mr.  Cas- 
sidy  observed  that  the  prisoners  had  moved 
considerably.  There  was  a  cleanly  swept 
trail  four  yards  long  where  they  had  dragged 
themselves,  and  they  sat  in  the  end  nearer 
the  guns.  Mr.  Cassidy  smiled  and  fired  close 
to  the  Mexican's  ear,  who  lost  in  one  fright- 
ened jump  a  little  of  what  he  had  so  labori- 
ously gained. 

"  Yu'll  wear  out  yore  pants,"  said  Mr. 
Cassidy,  and  then  added  grimly,  "  an'  my 
patience." 

Mr.  Travennes  smiled  and  thought  of  the 
man  who  had  so  ably  seconded  Mr.  Cassidy's 
efforts  and  who  was  probably  shot  by  this 
time.  The  outfit  of  the  Bar-2O  was  so 
well  known  throughout  the  land  that  he  was 
aware  the  name  of  the  other  was  Red  Con- 
nors. An  unreasoning  streak  of  sarcasm 
swept  over  him  and  he  could  not  resist  the 
opportunity  to  get  in  a  stab  at  his  captor. 
241 


BAR  —  20 


"  Mebby  yore  pard  has  wore  out  some- 
body's patience,  too,"  said  Mr.  Travennes, 
suggestively  and  with  venom. 

His  captor  wheeled  toward  him,  his  face 
white  with  passion,  and  Mr.  Travennes 
shrank  back  and  regretted  the  words. 

"  I  ain't  shootin'  dogs  this  here  trip,"  said 
Mr.  Cassidy,  trembling  with  scorn  and  anger, 
"so  yu  can  pull  yourself  together.  I'll  give 
yu  another  chance,  but  yu  wants  to  hope 
almighty  hard  that  Red  is  O.  K.  If  he  ain't, 
I'll  blow  yu  so  many  ways  at  once  that  if  yu 
sprouts  yu'll  make  a  good  acre  of  weeds.  If 
he  is  all  right  yu'd  better  vamoose  this  range, 
for  there  won't  be  no  hole  for  yu  to  crawl 
into  next  time.  What  friends  yu  have  left 
will  have  to  tote  yu  off  an'  plant  yu,"  he  fin- 
ished with  emphasis.  He  drove  the  horses 
outside,  and,  after  severing  the  bonds  on  his 
prisoners,  lined  them  up. 

"  Yu,"  he  began,  indicating  all  but  Mr. 
Travennes,  "  yu  amble  right  smart  toward 
Canada,"  pointing  to  the  north.  "  Keep 
a-going  till  yu  gets  far  enough  away  so  a 
Colt's  won't  find  yu."  Here  he  grinned  with 
242 


THE   TALE   OF  A  CIGARETTE 

delight  as  he  saw  his  Sharp's  rifle  in  its  sheath 
on  his  saddle  and,  drawing  it  forth,  he  put 
away  his  Colt's  and  glanced  at  the  trio,  who 
were  already  industriously  plodding  north- 
ward. u  Hey!  "  he  shouted,  and  when  they 
sullenly  turned  to  see  what  new  idea  he  had 
found  he  gleefully  waved  his  rifle  at  them  and 
warned  them  farther:  "  This  is  a  Sharp's  an' 
it's  good  for  half  a  mile,  so  don't  stop  none 
too  soon." 

Having  sent  them  directly  away  from  their 
friends  so  they  could  not  have  him  "  potted  " 
on  the  way  back,  he  mounted  his  broncho  and 
indicated  to  Mr.  Travennes  that  he,  too,  was 
to  ride,  watching  that  that  person  did  not 
make  use  of  the  Winchester  which  Mr.  Con- 
nors was  foolish  enough  to  carry  around  on 
his  saddle.  Winchesters  were  Mr.  Cassidy's 
pet  aversion  and  Mr.  Connors'  most  prized 
possession,  this  difference  of  opinion  having 
upon  many  occasions  caused  hasty  words  be- 
tween them.  Mr.  Connors,  being  better  with 
his  Winchester  than  Mr.  Cassidy  was  with  his 
Sharp's,  had  frequently  proved  that  his  choice 
was  the  wiser,  but  Mr.  Cassidy  was  loyal  to 
243 


BAR  —  20 


the  Sharp's  and  refused  to  be  convinced. 
Now,  however,  the  Winchester  became  preg- 
nant with  possibilities  and,  therefore,  Mr. 
Travennes  rode  a  few  yards  to  the  left  and  in 
advance,  where  the  rifle  was  in  plain  sight, 
hanging  as  it  did  on  the  right  of  Mr.  Con- 
nors' saddle,  which  Mr.  Travennes  graced  so 
well. 

The  journey  back  to  town  was  made  in 
good  time  and  when  they  came  to  the  build- 
ings Mr.  Cassidy  dismounted  and  bade  his 
companion  do  likewise,  there  being  too  many 
corners  that  a  fleeing  rider  could  take  advan- 
tage of.  Mr.  Travennes  felt  of  his  bumps 
and  did  so,  wishing  hard  things  about  Mr. 
Cassidy. 


244 


CHAPTER    XV 

THE   PENALTY 

WHILE  Mr.  Travcnnes  had  been  enter- 
tained in  the  manner  narrated,  Mr. 
Connors  had  passed  the  time  by  relating  stale 
jokes  to  the  uproarious  laughter  of  his  ex- 
tremely bored  audience,  who  had  heard  the 
aged  efforts  many  times  since  they  had  first 
seen  the  light  of  day,  and  most  of  whom 
earnestly  longed  for  a  drink.  The  landlord, 
hearing  the  hilarity,  had  taken  advantage  of 
the  opportunity  offered  to  see  a  free  show. 
Not  being  able  to  see  what  the  occasion  was 
for  the  mirth,  he  had  pulled  on  his  boots  and 
made  his  way  to  the  show  with  a  flapjack  in 
the  skillet,  which,  in  his  haste,  he  had  for- 
gotten to  put  down.  He  felt  sure  that  he 
would  be  entertained,  and  he  was  not  disap- 
pointed. He  rounded  the  corner  and  was 
enthusiastically  welcomed  by  the  hungry  Mr. 
Connors,  whose  ubiquitous  guns  coaxed  from 
the  skillet  its  dyspeptic  wad. 
245 


BAR  —  20 


"  Th'  saints  be  praised!  "  ejaculated  Mr. 
Connors  as  a  matter  of  form,  not  having  a 
very  clear  idea  of  just  what  saints  were,  but 
he  knew  what  flapjacks  were  and  greedily 
overcame  the  heroic  resistance  of  the  one  pro- 
vided by  chance  and  his  own  guns.  As  he 
rolled  his  eyes  in  ecstatic  content  the  very  man 
Mr.  Cassidy  had  warned  him  against  sud- 
denly arose  and  in  great  haste  disappeared 
around  the  corner  of  the  corral,  from  which 
point  of  vantage  he  vented  his  displeasure  at 
the  treatment  he  had  received  by  wasting  six 
shots  at  the  mortified  Mr.  Connors. 

"  Steady!  "  sang  out  that  gentleman  as  the 
line-up  wavered.  u  He's  a  precedent  to  hell 
for  yu  fellers  !  Don't  yu  get  ambitious,  none 
whatever."  Then  he  wondered  how  long 
it  would  take  the  fugitive  to  secure  a  rifle 
and  return  to  release  the  others  by  drilling 
him  at  long  range. 

His  thoughts  were  interrupted  by  the 
vision  of  a  red  head  that  climbed  into  view 
over  a  rise  a  short  distance  off  and  he  grinned 
his  delight  as  Mr.  Cassidy  loomed  up,  jaunty 
and  triumphant.  Mr.  Cassidy  was  executing 
246 


THE   PENALTY 


calisthenics  with  a  Colt's  in  the  rear  of  Mr. 
Travennes'  neck  and  was  leading  the  horses. 

Mr.  Connors  waved  the  skillet  and  his 
friend  grinned  his  congratulations  at  what 
the  token  signified. 

"  I  see  yu  got  some  more,"  said  Mr.  Cas- 
sidy,  as  he  went  down  the  line-up  from  the 
rear  and  collected  nineteen  revolvers  of  vari- 
ous makes  and  conditions,  this  number  being 
explained  by  the  fact  that  all  but  one  of  the 
prisoners  wore  two.  Then  he  added  the  five 
that  had  kicked  against  his  ribs  ever  since 
he  had  left  the  hut,  and  carefully  threaded 
the  end  of  his  lariat  through  the  trigger 
guards. 

u  Looks  like  we  stuck  up  a  government  sup- 
ply mule,  Red,"  he  remarked,  as  he  fastened 
the  whole  collection  to  his  saddle.  "  Four- 
teen Colt's,  six  Steven's,  three  Remington's 
an'  one  puzzle,"  he  added,  examining  the 
"  puzzle."  u  *  Made  in  Germany,'  it  says, 
an'  it  shore  looks  like  it.  It's  got  little  pins 
stickin'  out  of  th'  cylinder,  like  yu  had  to 
swat  it  with  a  hammer  or  a  rock,  or  some- 
thing. It's  real  dangerous — warranted  to  go 
247 


BAR  —  20 


off,  but  mostly  by  itself,  I  reckon.  It  looks 
more  like  a  cactus  than  a  six-shooter — gosh, 
it's  a  eight-shooter !  I  allus  said  them  Dutch- 
men were  bloody-minded  cusses — think  of  be- 
ing able  to  shoot  yoreself  eight  times  before 
th'  blamed  thing  stops!  "  Then,  looking  at 
the  line-up  for  the  owner  of  the  weapon,  he 
laughed  at  the  woeful  countenances  displayed. 
"  Did  they  sidle  in  by  companies  or  squads?  " 
he  asked. 

"  By  twos,  mostly.  Then  they  parade- 
rested  an'  got  discharged  from  duty.  I  had 
eleven,  but  one  got  homesick,  or  disgusted, 
or  something,  an'  deserted.  It  was  that 
cussed  flapjack,"  confessed  and  explained  Mr. 
Connors. 

"What!"  said  Mr.  Cassidy  in  a  loud 
voice.  "Got  away!  Well,  we'll  have  to 
make  our  get-away  plumb  sudden  or  we'll 
never  go." 

At  this  instant  the  escaped  man  again  be- 
gan his  bombardment  from  the  corner  of  the 
corral  and  Mr.  Cassidy  paused,  indignant  at 
the  fusillade  which  tore  up  the  dust  at  his 
feet.  He  looked  reproachfully  at  Mr.  Con- 
248 


THE   PENALTY 


nors  and  then  circled  out  on  the  plain  until 
he  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  fleeing  cow-puncher, 
whose  back  rapidly  grew  smaller  in  the  fast- 
increasing  distance. 

"  That's  yore  friend,  Red,"  said  Mr.  Cas- 
sidy  as  he  returned  from  his  reconnaissance. 
"  He's  that  short-horn  yearling.  Mebby  he'll 
come  back  again,"  he  added  hopefully. 
"  Anyhow,  we've  got  to  move.  He'll  collect 
reinforcements  an'  mebby  they  all  won't  shoot 
like  him.  Get  up  on  yore  Clarinda  an'  hold 
th'  fort  for  me,"  he  ordered,  pushing  the  far- 
ther horse  over  to  his  friend.  Mr.  Connors 
proved  that  an  agile  man  can  mount  a  restless 
horse  and  not  lose  the  drop,  and  backed  off 
three  hundred  yards,  deftly  substituting  his 
Winchester  for  the  Colt's.  Then  Mr.  Cas- 
sidy  likewise  mounted  with  his  attention  riv- 
eted elsewhere  and  backed  off  to  the  side  of 
his  companion. 

The  bombardment  commenced  again  from 
the  corral,  but  this  time  Mr.  Connors'  rifle 
slid  around  in  his  lap  and  exploded  twice. 
The  bellicose  gentleman  of  the  corral  yelled 
in  pain  and  surprise  and  vanished. 
249 


BAR  —  20 


"  Purty  good  for  a  Winchester,"  said  Mr. 
Cassidy  in  doubtful  congratulation. 

"  That's  why  I  got  him,"  snapped  Mr. 
Connors  in  brief  reply,  and  then  he  laughed. 
"  Is  them  th'  vigilantes  what  never  let  a  man 
get  away?"  he  scornfully  asked,  backing 
down  the  street  and  patting  his  Winchester. 

"  Well,  Red,  they  wasn't  all  there.  They 
was  only  twelve  all  told,"  excused  Mr.  Cas- 
sidy. "  An'  then  we  was  two,"  he  explained, 
as  he  wished  the  collection  of  six-shooters  was 
on  Mr.  Connors'  horse  so  they  wouldn't  bark 
his  shin. 

"  An'  we  still  are,"  corrected  Mr.  Connors, 
as  they  wheeled  and  galloped  for  Alkaline. 

As  the  sun  sank  low  on  the  horizon  Mr. 
Peters  finished  ordering  provisions  at  the  gen- 
eral store,  the  only  one  Alkaline  boasted,  and 
sauntered  to  the  saloon  where  he  had  left 
his  men.  He  found  them  a  few  dollars  richer, 
as  they  had  borrowed  ten  dollars  from  the 
bartender  on  their  reputations  as  poker  play- 
ers and  had  used  the  money  to  stake  Mr. 
McAllister  in  a  game  against  the  local  poker 
champion. 

250 


THE   PENALTY 


"  Has  Hopalong  an'  Red  showed  up  yet?  " 
asked  Mr.  Peters,  frowning  at  the  delay  al- 
ready caused. 

u  Nope,"  replied  Johnny  Nelson,  as  he 
paused  from  tormenting  Billy  Williams. 

At  that  minute  the  doorway  was  darkened 
and  Mi*.  Cassidy  and  Mr.  Connors  entered 
and  called  for  refreshments.  Mr.  Cassidy 
dropped  a  huge  bundle  of  six-shooters  on  the 
floor,  making  caustic  remarks  regarding  their 
utility. 

"What's  th'  matter?"  inquired  Mr. 
Peters  of  Mr.  Cassidy.  "  Yu  looks  mad  an' 
anxious.  An'  where  in  h — /  did  yu  corral 
them  guns?  " 

Mr.  Cassidy  drank  deep  and  then  reported 
with  much  heat  what  had  occurred  at  Cactus 
Springs  and  added  that  he  wanted  to  go  back 
and  wipe  out  the  town,  said  desire  being 
luridly  endorsed  by  Mr.  Connors. 

"  Why,  shore,"  said  Mr.  Peters,  "  we'll  all 
go.  Such  doings  must  be  stopped  instanter." 
Then  he  turned  to  the  assembled  outfits  and 
asked  for  a  vote,  which  was  unanimous  for 
war. 

251 


BAR  —  20 


Shortly  afterward  eighteen  angry  cow- 
punchers  rode  to  the  east,  two  red-haired 
gentlemen  well  in  front  and  urging  speed. 
It  was  8  P.M.  when  they  left  Alkaline,  and  the 
cool  of  the  night  was  so  delightful  that  the 
feeling  of  ease  which  came  upon  them  made 
them  lax  and  they  lost  three  hours  in  straying 
from  the  dim  trail.  At  eight  o'clock  the  next 
morning  they  came  in  sight  of  their  destina- 
tion and  separated  into  two  squads,  Mr.  Cas- 
sidy  leading  the  northern  division  and  Mr. 
Connors  the  one  which  circled  to  the  south. 
The  intention  was  to  attack  from  two  direc- 
tions, thus  taking  the  town  from  front  and 
rear. 

Cactus  Springs  lay  gasping  in  the  excessive 
heat  and  the  vigilantes  who  had  toed  Mr. 
Connors'  line  the  day  before  were  lounging 
in  the  shade  of  the  "  Palace  "  saloon,  telling 
what  they  would  do  if  they  ever  faced  the 
same  man  again.  Half  a  dozen  sympathizers 
offered  gratuitous  condolence  and  advice  and 
all  were  positive  that  they  knew  where  Mr. 
Cassidy  and  Mr.  Connors  would  go  when 
they  died. 

252 


THE  PENALTY 


The  rolling  thunder  of  madly  pounding 
hoofs  disturbed  their  post-mortem  and  they 
arose  in  a  body  to  flee  from  half  their  num- 
ber, who,  guns  in  hands,  charged  down  upon 
them  through  clouds  of  sickly  white  smoke. 
Travennes'  Terrors  were  minus  many  weap- 
ons and  they  could  not  be  expected  to  give  a 
glorious  account  of  themselves.  Windows 
rattled  and  fell  in  and  doors  and  walls  gave 
off  peculiar  sounds  as  they  grew  full  of  holes. 
Above  the  riot  rattled  the  incessant  crack  of 
Colt's  and  Winchester,  emphasized  at  close 
intervals  by  the  assertive  roar  of  .60  caliber 
buffalo  guns.  Off  to  the  south  came  another 
rumble  of  hoofs  and  Mr.  Connors,  leading 
the  second  squad,  arrived  to  participate  in  the 
payment  of  the  debt. 

Smoke  spurted  from  windows  and  other 
points  of  vantage  and  hung  wavering  in  the 
heated  air.  The  shattering  of  woodwork  told 
of  .60  calibers  finding  their  rest,  and  the 
whines  that  grew  and  diminished  in  the  air 
sang  the  course  of  .45  's. 

While  the  fight  raged  hottest  Mr.  Nelson 
sprang  from  his  horse  and  ran  to  the  "  Pal- 

253 


BAR  —  20 


ace,"  where  he  collected  and  piled  a  heap  of 
tinderlike  wood,  and  soon  the  building  burst 
out  in  flames,  which,  spreading,  swept  the 
town  from  end  to  end. 

Mr.  Cassidy  fired  slowly  and  seemed  to  be 
waiting  for  something.  Mr.  Connors  laid 
aside  his  hot  Winchester  and  devoted  his  at- 
tention to  his  Colt's.  A  spurt  of  flame  and 
smoke  leaped  from  the  window  of  a  'dobe  hut 
and  Mr.  Connors  sat  down,  firing  as  he  went. 
A  howl  from  the  window  informed  him  that 
he  had  made  a  hit,  and  Mr.  Cassidy  ran  out 
and  dragged  him  to  the  shelter  of  a  near-by 
bowlder  and  asked  how  much  he  was  hurt. 

"  Not  much — in  th'  calf,"  grunted  Mr. 
Connors.  "  He  was  a  bad  shot — must  have 
been  the  cuss  that  got  away  yesterday,"  specu- 
lated the  injured  man  as  he  slowly  arose  to 
his  feet.  Mr.  Cassidy  dissented  from  force 
of  habit  and  returned  to  his  station. 

Mr.  Travennes,  who  was  sleeping  late  that 

morning,  coughed  and  fought  for  air  in  his 

sleep,   awakened  in  smoke,   rubbed  his  eyes 

to  make  sure  and,  scorning  trousers  and  shirt, 

254 


THE  PENALTY 


ran  clad  in  his  red  woolen  undergarments 
to  the  corral,  where  he  mounted  his  scared 
horse  and  rode  for  the  desert  and  safety. 

Mr.  Cassidy,  swearing  at  the  marksman- 
ship of  a  man  who  fired  at  his  head  and  per- 
forated his  sombrero,  saw  a  crimson  rider 
sweep  down  upon  him,  said  rider  being  her- 
alded by  a  blazing  .41. 

"  Gosh!  "  ejaculated  Mr.  Cassidy,  scarcely 
believing  his  eyes.  "  Oh,  it's  my  friend  Slim 
going  to  h — 1,"  he  remarked  to  himself  in 
audible  and  relieved  explanation.  Mr.  Cas- 
sidy's  Colt's  cracked  a  protest  and  then  he 
joined  Mr.  Peters  and  the  others  and  with 
them  fought  his  way  out  of  the  flame-swept 
town  of  Cactus  Springs. 

An  hour  later  Mr.  Connors  glanced  behind 
him  at  the  smoke  silhouetted  on  the  horizon 
and  pushed  his  way  to  where  Mr.  Cassidy 
rode  in  silence.  Mr.  Connors  grinned  at  his 
friend  of  the  red  hair,  who  responded  in  the 
same  manner. 

"  Did  yu  see  Slim?  "  casually  inquired  Mr. 
Connors,  looking  off  to  the  south. 

255 


BAR  —  20 


Mr.  Cassidy  sat  upright  in  his  saddle  and 
felt  of  his  Colt's.  "  Yes,"  he  replied,  "  I  saw 
him." 

Mr.  Connors  thereupon  galloped  on  in 
silence. 


256 


Saw    a   crimson   rider  sweep   down    upon    him 
heralded  by  a  blazing  star  " 


CHAPTER   XVI 

RUSTLERS   ON   THE   RANGE 

THE  affair  at  Cactus  Springs  had  more 
effect  on  the  life  at  the  Bar— 20  than 
was  realized  by  the  foreman.  News  travels 
rapidly,  and  certain  men,  whose  attributes 
were  not  of  the  sweetest,  heard  of  it  and 
swore  vengeance,  for  Slim  Travennes  had 
many  friends,  and  the  result  of  his  passing 
began  to  show  itself.  Outlaws  have  as  their 
strongest  defense  the  fear  which  they  inspire, 
and  little  time  was  lost  in  making  reprisals, 
and  these  caused  Buck  Peters  to  ride  into 
Buckskin  one  bright  October  morning  and 
then  out  the  other  side  of  the  town.  Coming 
to  himself  with  a  start  he  looked  around 
shamefacedly  and  retraced  his  course.  He 
was  very  much  troubled,  for,  as  foreman  of 
the  Bar— 20,  he  had  many  responsibilities,  and 
when  things  ceased  to  go  aright  he  was  ex- 
pected not  only  to  find  the  cause  of  the  evil, 
257 


BAR  —  20 


but  also  the  remedy.  That  was  what  he  was 
paid  seventy  dollars  a  month  for  and  that  was 
what  he  had  been  endeavoring  to  do.  As 
yet,  however,  he  had  only  accomplished  what 
the  meanest  cook's  assistant  had  done.  He 
knew  the  cause  of  his  present  woes  to  be 
rustlers  (cattle  thieves),  and  that  was  all. 

Riding  down  the  wide,  quiet  street,  he 
stopped  and  dismounted  before  the  ever-open 
door  of  a  ramshackle  one-story  frame  build- 
ing. Tossing  the  reins  over  the  flattened  ears 
of  his  vicious  pinto  he  strode  into  the  build- 
ing and  leaned  easily  against  the  bar,  where 
he  drummed  with  his  fingers  and  sank  into  a 
reverie. 

A  shining  bald  pate,  bowed  over  an  open 
box,  turned  around  and  revealed  a  florid  face, 
set  with  two  small,  twinkling  blue  eyes,  as  the 
proprietor,  wiping  his  hands  on  his  trousers, 
made  his  way  to  Buck's  end  of  the  bar. 

"  Mornin',  Buck.     How's  things?  " 

The  foreman,  lost  in  his  reverie,  continued 
to  stare  out  the  door. 

"  Mornin',"  repeated  the  man  behind  the 
bar.     "How's  things?" 
258 


RUSTLERS  ON  THE  RANGE 

"Oh!"  ejaculated  the  foreman,  smiling, 
"  purty  cussed." 

"  Anything  new?  " 

"  Th'  C-8o  lost  another  herd  last  night." 

His  companion  swore  and  placed  a  bottle 
at  the  foreman's  elbow,  but  the  latter  shook 
his  head.  "  Not  this  mornin' — I'll  try  one  of 
them  vile  cigars,  however." 

"  Them  cigars  are  th'  very  best  that — " 
began  the  proprietor,  executing  the  order. 

"  Oh,  hell!  "  exclaimed  Buck  with  weary 
disgust.  "  Yu  don't  have  to  palaver  none :  I 
shore  knows  all  that  by  heart." 

"  Them  cigars — "  repeated  the  proprietor. 

"  Yas,  yas;  them  cigars — I  know  all  about 
them  cigars.  Yu  gets  them  for  twenty  dol- 
lars a  thousand  an'  hypnotizes  us  into  payin' 
yu  a  hundred,"  replied  the  foreman,  biting 
off  the  end  of  his  weed.  Then  he  stared 
moodily  and  frowned.  "  I  wonder  why  it 
is?"  he  asked.  "We  punchers  like  good 
stuff  an'  we  pays  good  prices  with  good 
money.  What  do  we  get?  Why,  cabbage 
leaves  an'  leather  for  our  smokin'  an'  alco- 
hol an'  extract  for  our  drink.  Now,  up  in 
259 


BAR  —  20 


Kansas  City  we  goes  to  a  sumptious  lay-out, 
pays  less  an'  gets  bang-up  stuff.  If  yu  smelled 
one  of  them  K.  C.  cigars  yu'd  shore  have  to 
ask  what  it  was,  an'  as  for  th'  liquor,  why, 
yu'd  think  St.  Peter  asked  yu  to  have  one 
with  him.  It's  shore  wrong  somewhere." 

'  They  have  more  trade  in  K.   C.,"  sug- 
gested the  proprietor. 

"  An'  help,  an'  taxes,  an'  a  license,  an'  rent, 
an'  brass,  cut  glass,  mahogany  an'  French 
mirrors,"  countered  the  foreman. 

"  They  have  more  trade,"  reiterated  the 
man  with  the  cigars. 

"  Forty  men  spend  thirty  dollars  apiece 
with  yu  every  month." 

The  proprietor  busied  himself  under  the 
bar.  *  Yu'll  feel  better  to-morrow.  Any- 
way, what  do  yu  care,  yu  won't  lose  yore 
job,"  he  said,  emerging. 

Buck  looked  at  him  and  frowned,  holding 
back  the  words  which  formed  in  anger.  What 
was  the  use,  he  thought,  when  every  man 
judged  the  world  in  his  own  way. 

"  Have  yu  seen  any  of  th'  boys?"  he 
asked,  smiling  again. 

260 


RUSTLERS  ON  THE  RANGE 

"  Nary  a  boy.  Who  do  yu  reckon's  doin' 
all  this  rustlin'?  " 

"  I'm  reckonin',  not  shouting"  responded 
the  foreman. 

The  proprietor  looked  out  the  window  and 
grinned:  "Here  comes  one  of  yourn  now." 

The  newcomer  stopped  his  horse  in  a  cloud 
of  dust,  playfully  kicked  the  animal  in  the 
ribs  and  entered,  dusting  the  alkali  from  him 
with  a  huge  sombrero.  Then  he  straightened 
up  and  sniffed:  "  What's  burnin' ?  "  he  asked, 
simulating  alarm.  Then  he  noticed  the  cigar 
between  the  teeth  of  his  foreman  and 
grinned:  "  Gee,  but  yore  a  brave  man,  Buck." 

"  Hullo,  Hopalong,"  said  the  foreman. 
'  Want  a  smoke?  "  waving  his  hand  toward 
the  box  on  the  bar. 

Mr.  Hopalong  Cassidy  side-stepped  and 
began  to  roll  a  cigarette:  "Shore,  but  I'll 
burn  my  own — I  know  what  it  is." 

'  What  was  yu  doin'  to  my  cayuse  afore 
yu  come  in?"  asked  Buck. 

"  Nothin',"  replied  the  newcomer.  "  That 
was  mine  what  I  kicked  in  th'  corrugations." 

"  How  is  it  yore  ridin'  th'  calico?  "  asked 
261 


BAR  —  20 


the  foreman.  "  I  thought  yu  was  dead  stuck 
on  that  piebald." 

"That  piebald's  a  goat;  he's  been  livin' 
off  my  pants  lately,"  responded  Hopalong. 
"  Every  time  I  looks  th'  other  way  he  ambles 
over  and  takes  a  bite  at  me.  Yu  just  wait 
'til  this  rustler  business  is  roped,  an'  branded, 
an'  yu'll  see  me  eddicate  that  blessed  scrap- 
heap  into  eatin'  grass  again.  He  swiped 
Billy's  shirt  th'  other  day — took  it  right  off 
th'  corral  wall,  where  Billy'd  left  it  to  dry." 
Then,  seeing  Buck  raise  his  eyebrows,  he  ex- 
plained :  "  Shore,  he  washed  it  again.  That 
makes  three  times  since  last  fall." 

The  proprietor  laughed  and  pushed  out 
the  ever-ready  bottle,  but  Hopalong  shoved  it 
aside  and  told  the  reason:  "  Ever  since  I  was 
up  to  K.  C.  I've  been  spoiled.  I'm  drinkin' 
water  an'  slush." 

"  For  Gawd's  sake,  has  any  more  of  yu 
fellers  been  up  to  K.  C.  ?  "  queried  the  pro- 
prietor in  alarm. 

"  Shore;  Red  an'  Billy  was  up  there,  too," 
responded  Hopalong.  "  Red's  got  a  few 
remarks  to  shout  to  yu  about  yore  pain-killer. 
262 


RUSTLERS  ON  THE  RANGE 

Yu  better  send  for  some  decent  stuff  afore  he 
comes  to  town,"  he  warned. 

Buck  swung  away  from  the  bar  and  looked 
at  his  dead  cigar.  Then  he  turned  to  Hopa- 
long.  "  What  did  you  find?  "  he  asked. 

"  Same  old  story:  nice  wide  trail  up  to  th' 
Staked  Plain — then  nothin'." 

"  It  shore  beats  me,"  soliloquized  the  fore- 
man. "  It  shore  beats  me." 

"  Think  it  was  Tamale  Jose's  old  gang?  " 
asked  Hopalong. 

"  If  it  was  they  took  th'  wrong  trail  home 
— that  ain't  th'  way  to  Mexico." 

Hopalong  tossed  aside  his  half-smoked 
cigarette.  "  Well,  come  on  home;  what's 
th'  use  stewin'  over  it?  It'll  come  out  all 
O.  K.  in  th'  wash."  Then  he  laughed: 
"  There  won't  be  no  piebald  waitin'  for  it." 

Evading  Buck's  playful  blow  he  led  the 
way  to  the  door,  and  soon  'they  were  a  cloud 
of  dust  on  the  plain.  The  proprietor,  despair- 
ing of  customers  under  the  circumstances, 
absent-mindedly  wiped  off  the  bar,  and  sought 
his  chair  for  a  nap,  grumbling  about  the  way 
his  trade  had  fallen  off,  for  there  were  few 
263 


BAR  —  20 


customers,  and  those  who  did  call  were  heavy 
with  loss  of  sleep,  and  with  anxiety,  and  only 
paused  long  enough  to  toss  off  their  drink. 
On  the  ranges  there  were  occurrences  which 
tried  men's  souls. 

For  several  weeks  cattle  had  been  disap- 
pearing from  the  ranges  and  the  losses  had 
long  since  passed  the  magnitude  of  those 
suffered  when  Tamale  Jose  and  his  men  had 
crossed  the  Rio  Grande  and  repeatedly  levied 
heavy  toll  on  the  sleek  herds  of  the  Pecos 
Valley.  Tamale  Jose  had  raided  once  too 
often,  and  prosperity  and  plenty  had  followed 
on  the  ranches  and  the  losses  had  been  for- 
gotten until  the  fall  round-ups  clearly  showed 
that  rustlers  were  again  at  work. 

Despite  the  ingenuity  of  the  ranch  owners 
and  the  unceasing  vigilance  and  night  rides 
of  the  cow-punchers,  the  losses  steadily  in- 
creased until  there  was  promised  a  shortage 
which  would  permit  no  drive  to  the  western 
terminals  of  the  railroad  that  year.  For  two 
weeks  the  banks  of  the  Rio  Grande  had  been 
patrolled  and  sharp-eyed  men  searched  daily 
for  trails  leading  southward,  for  it  was  not 
264 


RUSTLERS  ON  THE  RANGE 

strange  to  think  that  the  old  raiders  were 
again  at  work,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that 
they  had  paid  dearly  for  their  former  depre- 
dations. The  patrols  failed  to  discover  any- 
thing out  of  the  ordinary  and  the  searchers 
found  no  trails.  Then  it  was  that  the  owners 
and  foremen  of  the  four  central  ranches  met 
in  Cowan's  saloon  and  sat  closeted  together 
for  all  of  one  hot  afternoon. 

The  conference  resulted  in  riders  being  dis- 
patched from  all  the  ranches  represented,  and 
one  of  the  couriers,  Mr.  Red  Connors,  rode 
north,  his  destination  being  far-away  Mon- 
tana. All  the  ranches  within  a  radius  of  a 
hundred  miles  received  letters  and  blanks  and 
one  week  later  the  Pecos  Valley  Cattle-Thief 
Elimination  Association  was  organized  and 
working,  with  Buck  as  Chief  Ranger. 

One  of  the  outcomes  of  Buck's  appoint- 
ment was  a  sudden  and  marked  immigration 
into  the  affected  territory.  Mr.  Connors  re- 
turned from  Montana  with  Mr.  Frenchy 
McAllister,  the  foreman  of  the  Tin-Cup,  who 
was  accompanied  by  six  of  his  best  and  most 
trusted  men.  Mr.  McAllister  and  party  were 

265 


BAR  -•  20 


followed  by  Mr.  You-bet  Somes,  foreman  of 
the  Two-X-Two  of  Arizona,  and  five  of  his 
punchers,  and  later  on  the  same  day  Mr.  Pie 
Willis,  accompanied  by  Mr.  Billy  Jordan  and 
his  two  brothers,  arrived  from  the  Pan- 
handle. The  O-Bar-O,  situated  close  to  the 
town  of  Muddy  Wells,  increased  its  payroll 
by  the  addition  of  nine  men,  each  of  whom 
bore  the  written  recommendation  of  the  fore- 
man of  the  Bar-20.  The  C— 80,  Double 
Arrow  and  the  Three  Triangle  also  received 
heavy  reinforcements,  and  even  Carter,  owner 
of  the  Barred  Horseshoe,  far  removed  from 
the  zone  of  the  depredations,  increased 
his  outfits  by  half  their  regular  strength. 
Buck  believed  that  if  a  thing  was  worth  doing 
at  all  that  it  was  worth  doing  very  well,  and 
his  acquaintances  were  numerous  and  loyal. 
The  collection  of  individuals  that  responded 
to  the  call  were  noteworthy  examples  of 
"gun-play  "  and  their  aggregate  value  was 
at  par  with  twice  their  numbers  in  cavalry. 

Each  ranch  had  one  large  ranch-house  and 
numerous    line-houses    scattered    along    the 
boundaries.     These  latter,  while  intended  as 
266 


RUSTLERS  ON  THE  RANGE 

camps  for  the  outriders,  had  been  erected  in 
the  days,  none  too  remote,  when  Apaches,  Ar- 
rapahoes,  Sioux  and  even  Cheyennes  raided 
southward,  and  they  had  been  constructed 
with  the  idea  of  defense  paramount.  Upon 
more  than  one  occasion  a  solitary  line-rider 
had  retreated  within  their  adobe  walls  and 
had  successfully  resisted  all  the  cunning  and 
ferocity  of  a  score  of  paint-bedaubed  war- 
riors and,  when  his  outfit  had  rescued  him, 
emerged  none  the  worse  for  his  ordeal. 

On  the  Bar— 20,  Buck  placed  these  houses 
in  condition  to  withstand  seige.  Twin  bar- 
rels of  water  stood  in  opposite  corners,  pro- 
visions were  stored  on  the  hanging  shelves 
and  the  bunks  once  again  reveled  in  untidi- 
ness. Spare  rifles,  in  pattern  ranging  from 
long-range  Sharp's  and  buffalo  guns  to  re- 
peating carbines,  leaned  against  the  walls, 
and  unbroken  boxes  of  cartridges  were  piled 
above  the  bunks.  Instead  of  the  lonesome 
outrider,  he  placed  four  men  to  each  house, 
two  of  whom  were  to  remain  at  home  and 
hold  the  house  while  their  companions  rode 
side  by  side  on  their  multi-mile  beat.  There 
267 


BAR  —  20 


were  six  of  these  houses  and,  instead  of  return- 
ing each  night  to  the  same  line-house,  the 
outriders  kept  on  and  made  the  circuit,  thus 
keeping  every  one  well  informed  and  break- 
ing the  monotony.  These  measures  were  ex- 
pected to  cause  the  rustling  operations  to  cease 
at  once,  but  the  effect  was  to  shift  the  losses 
to  the  Double  Arrow,  the  line-houses  of  which 
boasted  only  one  puncher  each.  Unreason- 
able economy  usually  defeats  its  object. 

The  Double  Arrow  was  restricted  on  the 
north  by  the  Staked  Plain,  which  in  itself 
was  considered  a  superb  defense.  The  White 
Sand  Hills  formed  its  eastern  boundary  and 
were  thought  to  be  second  only  to  the  north- 
ern protection.  The  only  reason  that  could 
be  given  for  the  hitherto  comparative  im- 
munity from  the  attacks  of  the  rustlers  was 
that  its  cattle  clung  to  the  southern  confines 
where  there  were  numerous  springs,  thus  mak- 
ing imperative  the  crossing  of  its  territory  to 
gain  the  herds. 

It  was  in  line-house  No.  3,  most  remote  of 
all,  that  Johnny  Redmond  fought  his  last 
fight  and  was  found  face  down  in  the  half- 
268 


RUSTLERS  ON  THE  RANGE 

ruined  house  with  a  hole  in  the  back  of  his 
head,  which  proved  that  one  man  was  in- 
capable of  watching  all  the  loopholes  in  four 
walls  at  once.  There  must  have  been  some 
casualities  on  the  other  side,  for  Johnny  was 
reputed  to  be  very  painstaking  in  his  u  gun- 
play," and  the  empty  shells  which  lay  scat- 
tered on  the  floor  did  not  stand  for  as  many 
ciphers,  of  that  his  foreman  was  positive.  He 
was  buried  the  day  he  was  found,  and  the 
news  of  his  death  ran  quickly  from  ranch  to 
ranch  and  made  more  than  one  careless 
puncher  arise  and  pace  the  floor  in  anger. 
More  men  came  to  the  Double  Arrow  and  its 
sentries  were  doubled.  The  depredations 
continued,  however,  and  one  night  a  week 
later  Frank  Swift  reeled  into  the  ranch-house' 
and  fell  exhausted  across  the  supper  table. 
Rolling  hoof-beats  echoed  flatly  and  died 
away  on  the  plain,  but  the  men  who  pursued 
them  returned  empty  handed.  The  wounds 
of  the  unfortunate  were  roughly  dressed  and 
in  his  delirium  he  recounted  the  fight.  His 
companion  was  found  literally  shot  to  pieces 
twenty  paces  from  the  door.  One  wall  was 
269 


BAR  —  20 


found  blown  in,  and  this  episode,  when  cou- 
pled with  the  use  of  dynamite,  was  more  than 
could  be  tolerated. 

When  Buck  had  been  informed  of  this  he 
called  to  him  Hopalong  Cassidy,  Red  Con- 
nors and  Frenchy  McAllister,  and  the  next 
day  the  three  men  rode  north  and  the  con- 
tingents of  the  ranches  represented  in  the 
Association  were  divided  into  two  squads,  one 
of  which  was  to  remain  at  home  and  guard 
the  ranches;  the  other,  to  sleep  fully  dressed 
and  armed  and  never  to  stray  far  from  their 
ranch-houses  and  horses.  These  latter  would 
be  called  upon  to  ride  swiftly  and  far  when 
the  word  came. 


270 


CHAPTER   XVII 

MR.  TRENDLEY   ASSUMES   ADDED 
IMPORTANCE 

THAT  the  rustlers  were  working  under 
a  well  organized  system  was  evident. 
That  they  were  directed  by  a  master  of  the 
game  was  ceaselessly  beaten  into  the  con- 
sciousness of  the  Association  by  the  diversity, 
dash  and  success  of  their  raids.  No  one,  save 
the  three  men  whom  they  had  destroyed,  had 
ever  seen  them.  But,  like  Tamale  Jose,  they 
had  raided  once  too  often. 

Mr.  Trendley,  more  familiarly  known  to 
men  as  "  Slippery,"  was  the  possessor  of  a 
biased  conscience,  if  any  at  all.  Tall,  gaunt 
and  weather-beaten  and  with  coal-black  eyes 
set  deep  beneath  hairless  eyebrows,  he  was 
sinister  and  forbidding.  Into  his  forty-five 
years  of  existence  he  had  crowded  a  century 
of  experience,  and  unsavory  rumors  about  him 
existed  in  all  parts  of  the  great  West.  From 
271 


BAR  —  20 


Canada  to  Mexico  and  from  Sacramento  to 
Westport  his  name  stood  for  brigandage. 
His  operations  had  been  conducted  with  such 
consummate  cleverness  that  in  all  the  accusa- 
tions there  was  lacking  proof.  Only  once 
had  he  erred,  and  then  in  the  spirit  of  pure 
deviltry  and  in  the  days  of  youthful  folly, 
and  his  mistake  was  a  written  note.  He  was 
even  thought  by  some  to  have  been  concerned 
in  the  Mountain  Meadow  Massacre;  others 
thought  him  to  have  been  the  leader  of  the 
band  of  outlaws  that  had  plundered  along  the 
Santa  Fe  Trail  in  the  late  '6o's.  In  Mon- 
tana and  Wyoming  he  was  held  responsible 
for  the  outrages  of  the  band  that  had 
descended  from  the  Hole-in-the-Wall  terri- 
tory and  for  over  a  hundred  miles  carried 
murder  and  theft  that  shamed  as  being  weak 
the  most  assiduous  efforts  of  zealous  Chey- 
ennes.  It  was  in  this  last  raid  that  he  had 
made  the  mistake  and  it  was  in  this  raid  that 
Frenchy  McAllister  had  lost  his  wife. 

When  Frenchy  had  first  been  approached 
by  Buck  as  to  his  going  in  search  of  the 
rustlers  he  had  asked  to  go  alone.    This  had 
272 


TRENDLEY'S    IMPORTANCE 

been  denied  by  the  foreman  of  the  Bar— 20 
because  the  men  whom  he  had  selected  to 
accompany  the  scout  were  of  such  caliber 
that  their  presence  could  not  possibly  form 
a  hindrance.  Besides  being  his  most  trusted 
friends  they  were  regarded  by  him  as  being 
the  two  best  exponents  of  "  gun-play  "  that 
the  West  afforded.  Each  was  a  specialist: 
Hopalong,  expert  beyond  belief  with  his 
Colt's  six-shooters,  was  only  approached  by 
Red,  whose  Winchester  was  renowned  for  its 
accuracy.  The  three  made  a  perfect  com- 
bination, as  the  rashness  of  the  two  younger 
men  would  be  under  the  controlling  influence 
of  a  man  who  could  retain  his  coolness  of 
mind  under  all  circumstances. 

When  Buck  and  Frenchy  looked  into  each 
other's  eyes  there  sprang  into  the  mind  of 
each  the  same  name — Slippery  Trendley. 
Both  had  spent  the  greater  part  of  a  year 
in  fruitless  search  for  that  person,  the  fore- 
man of  the  Tin-Cup  in  vengeance  for  the 
murder  of  his  wife,  the  blasting  of  his  pros- 
pects and  the  loss  of  his  herds;  Buck,  out  of 
sympathy  for  his  friend  and  also  because  they 
273 


BAR  —  20 


had  been  partners  in  the  Double  Y.  Now 
that  the  years  had  passed  and  the  long-sought- 
for  opportunity  was  believed  to  be  at  hand, 
there  was  promised  either  a  cessation  of  the 
outrages  or  that  Buck  would  never  again  see 
his  friends. 

When  the  three  mounted  and  came  to  him 
for  final  instructions  Buck  forced  himself  to 
be  almost  repellent  in  order  to  be  capable  of 
coherent  speech.  Hopalong  glanced  sharply 
at  him  and  then  understood,  Red  was  all 
attention  and  eagerness  and  remarked  noth- 
ing but  the  words. 

"  Have  yu  ever  heard  of  Slippery  Trend- 
ley?  "  harshly  inquired  the  foreman. 

They  nodded,  and  on  the  faces  of  the 
younger  men  a  glint  of  hatred  showed  itself, 
but  Frenchy  wore  his  poker  countenance. 

Buck  continued:  "  Th'  reason  I  asked  yu 
was  because  I  don't  want  yu  to  think  yore 
goin'  on  no  picnic.  I  ain't  shore  it's  him,  but 
I've  had  some  hopeful  information.  Besides, 
he  is  th'  only  man  I  knows  of  who's  capable 
of  th'  plays  that  have  been  made.  It's  hardly 
necessary  for  me  to  tell  yu  to  sleep  with  one 
274 


TRENDLEY'S    IMPORTANCE 

eye  open  and  never  to  get  away  from  yore 
guns.  Now  I'm  goin'  to  tell  yu  th'  hardest 
part:  yu  are  goin'  to  search  th'  Staked  Plain 
from  one  end  to  th'  other,  an'  that's  what  no 
white  man's  ever  done  to  my  knowledge. 

"  Now,  listen  to  this  an'  don't  forget  it: 
Twenty  miles  north  from  Last  Stand  Rock 
is  a  spring;  ten  miles  south  of  that  bend  in 
Hell  Arroyo  is  another.  If  yu  gets  lost 
within  two  days  from  th'  time  yu  enters  th' 
Plain,  put  yore  left  hand  on  a  cactus  some- 
time between  sun-up  an'  noon,  move  around 
until  yu  are  over  its  shadow  an'  then  ride 
straight  ahead — that's  south.  If  you  goes 
loco  beyond  Last  Stand  Rock,  follow  th' 
shadows  made  before  noon — that's  th'  quick- 
est way  to  th'  Pecos.  Yu  all  knows  what  to 
do  in  a  sand-storm,  so  I  won't  bore  yu  with 
that.  Repeat  all  I've  told  yu,"  he  ordered 
and  they  complied. 

"  I'm  tellin'  yu  this,"  continued  the  fore- 
man, indicating  the  two  auxiliaries,  "  because 
yu  might  get  separated  from  Frenchy.  Now 
I  suggests  that  yu  look  around  near  th'  Devils 
Rocks :  I've  heard  that  there  are  several  water 
275 


BAR  —  20 


holes  among  them,  an'  besides,  they  might 
be  turned  into  fair  corrals.  Mind  yu,  I  know 
what  IVe  said  sounds  damned  idiotic  for  any- 
body that  has  had  as  much  experience  with 
th'  Staked  Plain  as  I  have,  but  I've  had  every 
other  place  searched  for  miles  around.  Th' 
men  of  all  th'  ranches  have  been  scoutin'  an' 
th'  Plain  is  th'  only  place  left.  Them  rustlers 
has  got  to  be  found  if  we  have  to  dig  to  hell 
for  them.  They've  taken  th'  pot  so  many 
times  that  they  reckons  they  owns  it,  an'  we've 
got  to  at  least  make  a  bluff  at  drawin'  cards. 
Mebby  they're  at  th'  bottom  of  th'  Pecos," 
here  he  smiled  faintly,  "  but  wherever  they 
are,  we've  got  to  find  them.  I  want  to  holler 
'  Keno.' 

"  If  yu  finds  where  they  hangs  out  come 
away  instanter,"  here  his  face  hardened  and 
his  eyes  narrowed,  "  for  it'll  take  more  than 
yu  three  to  deal  with  them  th'  way  I'm 
a-hankerin'  for.  Come  right  back  to  th'  Dou- 
ble Arrow,  send  me  word  by  one  of  their 
punchers  an'  get  all  the  rest  yu  can  afore  I 
gets  there.  It'll  take  me  a  day  to  get  th' 
men  together  an'  to  reach  yu.  I'm  goin'  to 

276 


TRENDLEY'S    IMPORTANCE 

use  smoke  signals  to  call  th'  other  ranches, 
so  there  won't  be  no  time  lost.  Carry  all  th' 
water  yu  can  pack  when  yu  leaves  th'  Double 
Arrow  an'  don't  depend  none  on  cactus  juice. 
Yu  better  take  a  pack  horse  to  carry  it,  an' 
yore  grub — yu  can  shoot  it  if  yu  have  to  hit 
th'  trail  real  hard." 

The  three  riders  felt  of  their  accouter- 
ments,  said  "  So  long,"  and  cantered  off  for 
the  pack  horse  and  extra  ammunition.  Then 
they  rode  toward  the  Double  Arrow,  stopping 
at  Cowan's  long  enough  to  spend  some 
money,  and  reached  the  Double  Arrow  at 
nightfall.  Early  the  next  morning  they 
passed  the  last  line-house  and,  with  the  pro- 
fane well-wishes  of  its  occupants  ringing  in 
their  ears,  passed  onto  one  of  Nature's  worst 
blunders — the  Staked  Plain. 


277 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

THE   SEARCH   BEGINS 

AS  the  sun  arose  it  revealed  three  punchers 
riding  away  from  civilization.  On  all 
sides,  stretching  to  the  evil-appearing  hori- 
zon, lay  vast  blotches  of  dirty-white  and 
faded  yellow  alkali  and  sand.  Occasionally 
a  dwarfed  mesquite  raised  its  prickly  leaves 
and  rustled  mournfully.  With  the  exception 
of  the  riders  and  an  occasional  Gila  monster, 
no  life  was  discernible.  Cacti  of  all  shapes 
and  sizes  reared  aloft  their  forbidding  spines 
or  spread  out  along  the  sand.  All  was  dead, 
ghastly;  all  was  oppressive,  startlingly  repel- 
lent in  its  sinister  promise;  all  was  the  vast- 
ness  of  desolation. 

Hopalong  knew  this  portion  of  the  desert 
for  ten  miles  inward — he  had  rescued  stray- 
ing cattle  along  its  southern  rim — but  once 
beyond  that  limit  they  would  have  to  trust 
to  chance  and  their  own  abilities.  There 
278 


THE   SEARCH  BEGINS 

were  water  holes  on  this  skillet,  but  nine  out 
of  ten  were  death  traps,  reeking  with  mineral 
poisons,  colored  and  alkaline.  The  two  men- 
tioned by  Buck  could  not  be  depended  on, 
for  they  came  and  went,  and  more  than 
one  luckless  wanderer  had  depended  on 
them  to  allay  his  thirst,  and  had  died 
for  his  trust.  So  the  scouts  rode  on  in 
silence,  noting  the  half-buried  skeletons  of 
cattle  which  were  strewn  plentifully  on  all 
sides.  Nearly  three  per  cent,  of  the  cattle 
belonging  to  the  Double  Arrow  yearly  found 
death  on  this  table-land,  and  the  herds  of  that 
ranch  numbered  many  thousand  heads.  It 
was  this  which  made  the  Double  Arrow  the 
poorest  of  the  ranches,  and  it  was  this  which 
allowed  insufficient  sentries  in  its  line-houses. 
The  skeletons  were  not  all  of  cattle,  for  at 
rare  intervals  lay  the  sand-worn  frames  of 
men. 

On  the  morning  of  the  second  day  the  op- 
pression increased  with  the  wind  and  Red 
heaved  a  sigh  of  restlessness.  The  sand 
began  to  skip  across  the  plain,  in  grains  at 
first  and  hardly  noticeable.  Hopalong  turned 
279 


BAR  —  20 


in  his  saddle  and  regarded  the  desert  with 
apprehension.  As  he  looked  he  saw  that 
where  grains  had  shifted  handfuls  were  now 
moving.  His  mount  evinced  signs  of  uneasi- 
ness and  was  hard  to  control.  A  gust  of 
wind,  stronger  than  the  others,  pricked  his 
face  and  grains  of  sand  rolled  down  his  neck. 
The  leather  of  his  saddle  emitted  strange 
noises  as  if  a  fairy  tattoo  was  being  beaten 
upon  it  and  he  raised  his  hand  and  pointed 
off  toward  the  east.  The  others  looked  and 
saw  what  appeared  to  be  a  fog  rise  out  of 
the  desert  and  intervene  between  them  and 
the  sun.  As  far  as  eye  could  reach  small 
whirlwinds  formed  and  broke  and  one  swept 
down  and  covered  them  with  stinging  sand. 
The  day  became  darkened  and  their  horses 
whinnied  in  terror  and  the  clumps  of  mesquite 
twisted  and  turned  to  the  gusts. 

Each  man  knew  what  was  to  come  upon 
them  and  they  dismounted,  hobbled  their 
horses  and  threw  them  bodily  to  the  earth, 
wrapping  a  blanket  around  the  head  of  each. 
A  rustling  as  of  paper  rubbing  together  became 
noticeable  and  they  threw  themselves  flat 
280 


THE   SEARCH   BEGINS 

upon  the  earth,  their  heads  wrapped  in  their 
coats  and  buried  in  the  necks  of  their  mounts. 
For  an  hour  they  endured  the  tortures  of  hell 
and  then,  when  the  storm  had  passed,  raised 
their  heads  and  cursed  Creation.  Their 
bodies  burned  as  though  they  had  been  shot 
with  fine  needles  and  their  clothes  were 
meshes  where  once  was  tough  cloth.  Even 
their  shoes  were  perforated  and  the  throat 
of  each  ached  with  thirst. 

Hopalong  fumbled  at  the  canteen  resting 
on  his  hip  and  gargled  his  mouth  and  throat, 
washing  down  the  sand  which  wouldn't  come 
up.  His  friends  did  likewise  and  then  looked 
around.  After  some  time  had  elapsed  the 
loss  of  their  pack  horse  was  noticed  and  they 
swore  again.  Hopalong  took  the  lead  in 
getting  his  horse  ready  for  service  and  then 
rode  around  in  a  circle  half  a  mile  in  diame- 
ter, but  returned  empty  handed.  The  horse 
was  gone  and  with  it  went  their  main  supply 
of  food  and  drink. 

Frenchy  scowled  at  the  shadow  of  a  cactus 
and  slowly  rode  toward  the  northeast,   fol- 
lowed   closely    by    his    friends.      His    hand 
281 


BAR  —  20 


reached  for  his  depleted  canteen,  but  re- 
frained— water  was  to  be  saved  until  the  last 
minute. 

"  I'm  gonV  to  build  a  shack  out  here  an' 
live  in  it,  /  am !  "  exploded  Hopalong  in  with- 
ering irony  as  he  dug  the  sand  out  of  his 
ears  and  also  from  his  six-shooter.  "  I  just 
nachurally  dotes  on  this,  /  do !  " 

The  others  were  too  miserable  to  even 
grunt  and  he  neatly  severed  the  head  of  a 
Gila  monster  from  its  scaly  body  as  it 
opened  its  venomous  jaws  in  rage  at  this  inva- 
sion of  its  territory.  "Lovely  place!"  he 
sneered. 

"  Yu  better  save  them  cartridges,  Hoppy," 
interposed  Red  as  his  companion  fired  again, 
feeling  that  he  must  say  something. 

"  An'  what  for  ?  "  blazed  his  friend.  "  To 
plug  sand  storms?  Anybody  what  we  find  on 
this  God-forsaken  lay-out  won't  have  to  be 
shot — they  will  commit  suicide  an'  think  it's 
fun!  Tell  yu  what,  if  them  rustlers  hangs 
out  on  this  sand  range  they're  better  men 
than  I  reckons  they  are.  Anybody  what  hides 
282 


THE  SEARCH  BEGINS 

up  here  shore  earns  all  he  steals."  Hopalong 
grumbled  from  force  of  habit  and  because  no 
one  else  would.  His  companions  understood 
this  and  paid  no  attention  to  him,  which  in- 
creased his  disgust. 

"What  are  we  up  here  for?"  he  asked, 
belligerently.  "  Why,  because  them  Double 
Arrow  idiots  can't  even  watch  a  desert !  We 
have  to  do  their  work  for  them  an'  they 
hangs  around  home  an'  gets  slaughtered! 
Yes,  sir !  "  he  shouted,  "  they  can't  even  take 
care  of  themselves  when  they're  in  line-houses 
what  are  forts.  Why,  that  time  we  cleaned 
out  them  an'  th'  C— 80  over  at  Buckskin  they 
couldn't  help  runnin'  into  singin'  lead !  " 

*  Yas,"  drawled  Red,  whose  recollection 
of  that  fight  was  vivid.  "Yas,  an'  why?" 
he  asked,  and  then  replied  to  his  own  ques- 
tion. "  Because  yu  sat  up  in  a  barn  behind 
them,  Buck  played  his  gun  on  th'  side  win- 
dow, Pete  an'  Skinny  lay  behind  a  rock  to  one 
side  of  Buck,  me  an'  Lanky  was  across  th' 
street  in  front  of  them,  an'  Billy  an'  Johnny 
was  in  th'  arroyo  on  th'  other  side.  Cowan 
283 


BAR  —  20 


laid  on  his  stummick  on  th'  roof  of  his  place 
with  a  .60  caliber  buffalo  gun,  an5  th'  whole 
blamed  town  was  agin  them.  There  wasn't 
five  seconds  passed  that  lead  wasn't  rippin' 
through  th'  walls  of  their  shack.  Th'  Hous- 
ton House  wasn't  made  for  no  fort,  an'  be- 
sides, they  wasn't  like  th'  gang  that's  punchin' 
now.  That's  why." 

Hopalong  became  cheerful  again,  for  here 
was  a  chance  to  differ  from  his  friend.  The 
two  loved  each  other  the  better  the  more 
they  squabbled. 

"Yas!"  responded  Hopalong  with  sar- 
casm. "  Yas !  "  he  reiterated,  drawling  it 
out.  "Yu  was  in  front  of  them,  an'  with 
what?  Why,  an'  old,  white-haired,  interfer- 
ing Winchester,  that's  what!  Me  an'  my 
Sharp's " 

"  Yu  and  yore  Sharp's!"  exploded  Red, 
whose  dislike  for  that  rifle  was  very  pro- 
nounced. "  Yu  and  yore  Sharp's " 

"  Me  an'  my  Sharp's,  as  I  was  palaverin' 
before  bein*  interrupted,"  continued  Hopa- 
long, "  did  more  damage  in  five  min " 

"Played  hell!"  snapped  Red  with  heat. 
284 


THE  SEARCH  BEGINS 

"  All  yu  an  yore  Sharp's  could  do  was  to  cut 
yore  initials  in  th'  back  door  of  their  shack 
an' " 

"  Did  more  damage  in  five  minutes,"  con- 
tinued Hopalong,  "  than  all  th'  blasted 
Winchesters  in  th'  whole  damned  town. 
Why " 

"  An'  then  they  was  cut  blamed  poor. 
Every  time  that  cannon  of  yourn  exploded  I 
shore  thought  th' " 

"  Why,  Cowan  an'  his  buffalo  did  more 
damage  (Cowan  was  reputed  to  be  a  very 
poor  shot)  than  yu  an' " 

"  I  thought  th'  artillery  was  comin'  into 
th'  disturbance.  I  could  see  yore  red 
head " 

"  MY  red  head !  "  exclaimed  Hopalong, 
sizing  up  the  crimson  warlock  of  his  com- 
panion. "  MY  red  head !  "  he  repeated,  and 
then  turned  to  Frenchy :  "  Hey,  Frenchy, 
whose  got  th'  reddest  hair,  me  or  Red?  " 

Frenchy  slowly  turned  in  his  saddle  and 
gravely  scrutinized  them.  Being  strictly  im- 
partial and  truthful,  he  gave  up  the  effort  of 
differentiating  and  smiled.  "  Why,  if  th' 

285 


BAR  —  20 


tops  of  yore  heads  were  poked  through  two 
holes  in  a  board  an'  I  didn't  know  which  was 
which,  I'd  shore  make  a  mistake  if  I  tried  to 


name  'em." 


Thereupon  the  discussion  was  directed  at 
the  judge,  and  the  forenoon  passed  very  pleas- 
antly, Frenchy  even  smiling  in  his  misery. 


286 


CHAPTER   XIX 

HOPALONG'S   DECISION 

SHORTLY  after  noon,  Hopalong,  who 
had  ridden  with  his  head  bowed  low  in 
meditation,  looked  up  and  slapped  his  thigh. 
Then  he  looked  at  Red  and  grinned. 

"  Look  ahere,  Red,"  he  began,  "  there 
ain't  no  rustlers  with  their  headquarters  on 
this  God-forsaken  sand  heap,  an'  there  never 
was.  They  have  to  have  water  an'  lots  of  it, 
too,  an'  th'  nearest  of  any  account  is  th' 
Pecos,  or  some  of  them  streams  over  in  th' 
Panhandle.  Th'  Panhandle  is  th'  best  place. 
There  are  lots  of  streams  an'  lakes  over  there 
an'  they're  right  in  a  good  grass  country. 
Why,  an'  army  could  hide  over  there  an' 
never  be  found  unless  it  was  hunted  for 
blamed  good.  Then,  again,  it's  close  to  th' 
railroad.  Up  north  aways  is  th'  south  branch 
of  th'  Santa  Fe  Trail  an'  it's  far  enough  away 
not  to  bother  anybody  in  th'  middle  Pan- 

287 


BAR  —  20 


handle.  Then  there's  Fort  Worth  purty 
near,  an'  other  trails.  Didn't  Buck  say  he 
had  all  th'  rest  of  th'  country  searched?  He 
meant  th'  Pecos  Valley  an'  th'  Davis  Moun- 
tains country.  All  th'  rustlers  would  have  to 
do  if  they  were  in  th'  Panhandle  would  be 
to  cross  th'  Canadian  an'  th'  Cimarron  an' 
hit  th'  trail  for  th'  railroad.  Good  fords, 
good  grass  an'  water  all  th'  way,  cattle  fat 
when  they  are  delivered  an'  plenty  of  room. 
Th'  more  I  thinks  about  it  th'  more  I  cottons 
to  the  Panhandle." 

"  Well,  it  shore  does  sound  good,"  replied 
Red,  reflectively.  "  Do  yu  mean  th'  Cun- 
ningham Lake  region  or  farther  north?" 

"  Just  th'  other  side  of  this  blasted  desert: 
anywhere  where  there's  water,"  responded 
Hopalong,  enthusiastically.  u  I've  been  doin' 
some  hot  reckonin'  for  th'  last  two  hours  an' 
this  is  th'  way  it  looks  to  me :  they  drives  th' 
cows  up  on  this  skillet  for  a  ways,  then  turns 
east  an'  hits  th'  trail  for  home  an'  water. 
They  can  get  around  th'  canon  near 
Thatcher's  Lake  by  a  swing  of  th'  north. 
I  tell  yu  that's  th'  only  way  out'n  this.  Who 
288 


HOPALONG'S  DECISION 

could  tell  where  they  turned  with  th'  wind 
raisin'  th'  devil  with  th'  trail?  Didn't  we 
follow  a  trail  for  a  ways,  an'  then  what? 
Why,  there  wasn't  none  to  follow.  We  can 
ride  north  'till  we  walk  behind  ourselves  an' 
never  get  a  peek  at  them.  I  am  in  favor  of 
headin'  for  th'  Sulphur  Spring  Creek  district. 
We  can  spend  a  couple  of  weeks,  if  we  has  to, 
an'  prospect  that  whole  region  without  havin' 
to  cut  our  water  down  to  a  smell  an'  a  taste 
an'  live  on  jerked  beef.  If  we  investigates 
that  country  we'll  find  something  else  than 
sand  storms,  poisoned  water  holes  an' 
blisters." 

"  Ain't  th'  Panhandle  full  of  nesters 
(farmers)?"  inquired  Red,  doubtfully. 

"  Along  th'  Canadian  an'  th'  edges,  yas;  in 
th'  middle,  no,"  explained  Hopalong.  "  They 
hang  close  together  on  account  of  th'  war- 
whoops,  an'  they  like  th'  trails  purty  well  be- 
cause of  there  allus  bein'  somebody  passin'." 

u  Buck  ought  to  send  some  of  th'  Pan- 
handle boys  up  there,"  suggested  Red. 
"  There's  Pie  Willis  an'  th'  Jordans — they 
knows  th'  Panhandle  like  yu  knows  poker." 
289 


BAR  —  20 


Frenchy  had  paid  no  apparent  attention 
to  the  conversation  up  to  this  point,  but  now 
he  declared  himself.  "  Yu  heard  what  Buck 
said,  didn't  yu?  "  he  asked.  "  We  were  told 
to  search  th'  Staked  Plains  from  one  end  to 
th'  other  an'  I'm  goin'  to  do  it  if  I  can  hold 
out  long  enough.  I  ain't  goin'  to  palaver 
with  yu  because  what  yu  say  can't  be  denied 
as  far  as  wisdom  is  concerned.  Yu  may  have 
hit  it  plumb  center,  but  I  knows  what  I  was 
ordered  to  do,  an'  yu  can't  get  me  to  go  over 
there  if  you  shouts  all  night.  When  Buck 
says  anything,  she  goes.  He  wants  to  know 
where  th'  cards  are  stacked  an'  why  he  can't 
holler  l  Keno,'  an'  I'm  goin'  to  find  out  if  I 
can.  Yu  can  go  to  Patagonia  if  yu  wants  to, 
but  yu  go  alone  as  far  as  I  am  concerned." 

"  Well,  it's  better  if  yu  don't  go  with  us," 
replied  Hopalong,  taking  it  for  granted  that 
Red  would  accompany  him.  "  Yu  can  pros- 
pect this  end  of  th'  game  an'  we'll  be  takin' 
care  of  th'  other.  It's  two  chances  now  where 
we  only  had  one  afore." 

"  Yu  go  east  an'  I'll  hunt  around  as  or- 
dered," responded  Frenchy. 
290 


HOPALONG'S   DECISION 

"  East  nothin',"  replied  Hopalong.  "  Yu 
don't  get  me  to  wallow  in  hot  alkali  an'  lose 
time  ridin'  in  ankle-deep  sand  when  I  can 
hit  th'  south  trail,  skirt  th'  White  Sand  Hills 
an5  be  in  God's  country  again.  I  ain't  goin' 
to  wrastle  with  no  canon  this  here  trip,  none 
whatever.  I'm  goin'  to  travel  in  style,  get 
to  Big  Spring  by  ridin'  two  miles  to  where  I 
could  only  make  one  on  this  stove.  Then 
I'll  head  north  along  Sulphur  Spring  Creek 
an'  have  water  an'  grass  all  th'  way,  barrin' 
a  few  stretches.  While  you  are  bein'  fricassed 
I'll  be  streakin'  through  cottonwood  groves 
an'  ridin'  in  th'  creek." 

*  Yu'll  have  to  go  alone,  then,"  said  Red, 
resolutely.  "  Frenchy  ain't  a-goin'  to  die  of 
lonesomeness  on  this  desert  if  I  knows  what 
I'm  about,  an'  I  reckon  I  do,  some.  Me  an' 
him'll  follow  out  what  Buck  said,  hunt  around 
for  a  while  an'  then  Frenchy  can  go  back  to 
th'  ranch  to  tell  Buck  what's  up  an5  I'll  take 
th'  trail  yu  are  a-scared  of  an'  meet  yu  at  th' 
east  end  of  Cunningham  Lake  three  days 
from  now." 

'  Yu  better  come  with  me,"  coaxed  Hopa- 
291 


HOPALONG'S   DECISION 

long,  not  liking  what  his  friend  had  said 
about  being  afraid  of  the  trail  past  the  canon 
and  wishing  to  have  some  one  with  whom  to 
talk  on  his  trip.  "  I'm  goin'  to  have  a  nice 
long  swim  to-morrow  night,"  he  added,  trying 
bribery. 

"  An'  I'm  goin'  to  try  to  keep  from  hittin' 
my  blisters,"  responded  Red.  "  I  don't  want 
to  go  swimmin'  in  no  creek  full  of  moccasins 
— I'd  rather  sleep  with  rattlers  or  copper- 
heads. Every  time  I  sees  a  cotton-mouth  I 
feels  like  I  had  just  sit  down  on  one." 

"  I'll  flip  a  coin  to  see  whether  yu  comes 
or  not,"  proposed  Hopalong. 

"  If  yu  wants  to  gamble  so  bad  I'll  flip 
yu  to  see  who  draws  our  pay  next  month,  but 
not  for  what  yu  said,"  responded  Red,  chok- 
ing down  the  desire  to  try  his  luck. 

Hopalong  grinned  and  turned  toward  the 
south.  "  If  I  sees  Buck  afore  yu  do,  I'll  tell 
him  yu  an'  Frenchy  are  growin'  watermelons 
up  near  Last  Stand  Rock  an'  are  waitin'  for 
rain.  Well,  so  long,"  he  said. 

"Yu  tell  Buck  we're  obeyin'  orders!" 
292 


BAR  —  20 


shouted  Red,  sorry  that  he  was  not  going 
with  his  bunkie. 

Frenchy  and  Red  rode  on  in  silence,  the 
latter  feeling  strangely  lonesome,  for  he  and 
the  departed  man  had  seldom  been  separated 
when  journeys  like  this  were  to  be  taken.  And 
when  in  search  of  pleasure  they  were  nearly 
always  together.  Frenchy,  while  being  very 
friendly  with  Hopalong,  a  friendship  that 
would  have  placed  them  side  by  side  against 
any  odds,  was  not  accustomed  to  his  com- 
pany and  did  not  notice  his  absence. 

Red  looked  off  toward  the  south  for  the 
tenth  time  and  for  the  tenth  time  thought 
that  his  friend  might  return.  "  He's  a  son- 
of-a-gun,"  he  soliloquized. 

His  companion  looked  up :  "  He  shore  is, 
an'  he's  right  about  this  rustler  business,  too. 
But  we'll  look  around  for  a  day  or  so  an' 
then  yu  raise  dust  for  th'  Lake.  I'll  go  back 
to  th'  ranch  an'  get  things  primed,  so  there'll 
be  no  time  lost  when  we  get  th'  word." 

"  I'm  sorry  I  went  an'  said  what  I  did 
about  me  takin'  th'  trail  he  was  a-scared  of," 
293 


BAR  —  20 


confessed  Red,  after  a  pause.  "  Why,  he 
ain't  a-scared  of  nothin'." 

"  He  got  back  at  yu  about  them  water- 
melons, so  what's  th'  difference?"  asked 
Frenchy.  "  He  don't  owe  yu  nothin'." 

An  hour  later  they  searched  the  Devil's 
Rocks,  but  found  no  rustlers.  Filling  their 
canteens  at  a  tiny  spring  and  allowing  their 
mounts  to  drink  the  remainder  of  the  water, 
they  turned  toward  Hell  Arroyo,  which  they 
reached  at  nightfall.  Here,  also,  their  search 
availed  them  nothing  and  they  paused  in 
indecision.  Then  Frenchy  turned  toward  his 
companion  and  advised  him  to  ride  toward 
the  Lake  in  the  night  when  it  was  compara- 
tively cool. 

Red  considered  and  then  decided  that  the 
advice  was  good.  He  rolled  a  cigarette, 
wheeled  and  faced  the  east  and  spurred  for- 
ward: "  So  long,"  he  called. 

"  So  long,"  replied  Frenchy,  who  turned 
toward  the  south  and  departed  for  the  ranch. 

The  foreman  of  the  Bar— 20  was  cleaning 
his  rifle  when  he  heard  the  hoof-beats  of  a 
294 


HOPALONG'S  DECISION 

galloping  horse  and  he  ran  around  the  cor- 
ner of  the  house  to  meet  the  newcomer,  whom 
he  thought  to  be  a  courier  from  the  Double 
Arrow.  Frenchy  dismounted  and  explained 
why  he  returned  alone. 

Buck  listened  to  the  report  and  then,  not- 
ing the  fire  which  gleamed  in  his  friend's  eyes, 
nodded  his  approval  to  the  course.  "  I  reckon 
it's  Trendley,  Frenchy — I've  heard  a  few 
things  since  yu  left.  An'  yu  can  bet  that  if 
Hopalong  an'  Red  have  gone  for  him  he'll 
be  found.  I  expect  action  any  time  now,  so 
we'll  light  th'  signal  fire."  Then  he  hesi- 
tated; "  Yu  light  it — yu've  been  waiting  a 
long  time  for  this." 

The  balls  of  smoke  which  rolled  upward 
were  replied  to  by  other  balls  at  different 
points  on  the  plain,  and  the  Bar-2O  prepared 
to  feed  the  numbers  of  hungry  punchers  who 
would  arrive  within  the  next  twenty-four 
hours. 

Two  hours  had  not  passed  when  eleven 
men  rode  up  from  the  Three  Triangle,  fol- 
lowed eight  hours  later  by  ten  from  the 
O-Bar-O.  The  outfits  of  the  Star  Circle  and 
295 


BAR  —  20 


the  Barred  Horseshoe,  eighteen  in  all,  came 
next  and  had  scarcely  dismounted  when  those 
of  the  C— 80  and  the  Double  Arrow,  fretting 
at  the  delay,  rode  up.  With  the  sixteen  from 
the  Bar-20  the  force  numbered  seventy-five 
resolute  and  pugnacious  cow-punchers,  all 
aching  to  wipe  out  the  indignities  suffered. 


296 


CHAPTER   XX 

A   PROBLEM   SOLVED 

HOPALONG  worried  his  way  out  of  the 
desert  on  a  straight  line,  thus  cutting 
in  half  the  distance  he  had  traveled  when 
going  into  it.  He  camped  that  night  on  the 
sand  and  early  the  next  morning  took  up  his 
journey.  It  was  noon  when  he  began  to 
notice  familiar  sights,  and  an  hour  later  he 
passed  within  a  mile  of  line-house  No.  3, 
Double  Arrow.  Half  an  hour  later  he  espied 
a  cow-puncher  riding  like  mad.  Thinking 
that  an  investigation  would  not  be  out  of 
place,  he  rode  after  the  rider  and  overtook 
him,  when  that  person  paused  and  retraced 
his  course. 

"  Hullo,  Hopalong!"  shouted  the  puncher, 
and  he  came  near  enough  to  recognize  his 
pursuer.  "  Thought  yu  was  farmin'  up  on 
th'  Staked  Plain?" 

"  Hullo,  Pie,"  replied  Hopalong,  recog- 
297 


BAR  —  20 


nizing  Pie  Willis.  "  What  was  yu  chasin' 
so  hard?" 

"  Coyote — damn  'em,  but  can't  they  go 
some?  They're  gettin'  so  thick  we'll  shore 
have  to  try  strichnine  an'  thin  'em  out." 

"  I  thought  anybody  that  had  been  raised 
in  th'  Panhandle  would  know  better'n  to 
chase  greased  lightnin',"  rebuked  Hopalong. 
"  Yu  has  got  about  as  much  show  catchin' 
one  of  them  as  a  tenderfoot  has  of  bustin' 
an  outlawed  cayuse." 

"  Shore;  I  know  it,"  responded  Pie,  grin- 
ning. "  But  it's  fun  seein'  them  hunt  th' 
horizon.  What  are  yu  doin'  down  here  an' 
where  are  yore  pardners?  " 

Thereupon  Hopalong  enlightened  his  in- 
quisitive companion  as  to  what  had  occurred 
and  as  to  his  reasons  for  riding  south.  Pie 
immediately  became  enthusiastic  and  an- 
nounced his  intention  of  accompanying  Hopa- 
long on  his  quest,  which  intention  struck  that 
gentleman  as  highly  proper  and  wise.  Then 
Pie  hastily  turned  and  played  at  chasing 
coyotes  in  the  direction  of  the  line-house, 
where  he  announced  that  his  absence  would 
298 


A  PROBLEM   SOLVED 

be  accounted  for  by  the  fact  that  he  and 
Hopalong  were  going  on  a  journey  of  investi- 
gation into  the  Panhandle.  Billy  Jordan,  who 
shared  with  Pie  the  accommodations  of  the 
house,  objected  and  showed,  very  clearly,  why 
he  was  eminently  better  qualified  to  take  up 
the  proposed  labors  than  his  companion.  The 
suggestions  were  fast  getting  tangled  up  with 
the  remarks,  when  Pie,  grabbing  a  chunk  of 
jerked  beef,  leaped  into  his  saddle  and  abso- 
lutely refused  to  heed  the  calls  of  his  former 
companion  and  return.  He  rode  to  where 
Hopalong  was  awaiting  him  as  if  he  was 
afraid  he  wasn't  going  to  live  long  enough 
to  get  there.  Confiding  to  his  companion 
that  Billy  was  a  "  locoed  sage  hen,"  he  led 
the  way  along  the  base  of  the  White  Sand 
Hills  and  asked  many  questions.  Then  they 
turned  toward  the  east  and  galloped  hard. 

It  had  been  Hopalong's  intention  to  carry 
out  what  he  had  told  Red  and  to  go  to  Big 
Spring  first  and  thence  north  along  Sulphur 
Spring  Creek,  but  to  this  his  guide  strongly 
dissented.  There  was  a  short  cut,  or  several 
of  them  for  that  matter,  was  Pie's  contention, 
299 


BAR  —  20 


and  any  one  of  them  would  save  a  day's  hard 
riding.  Hopalong  made  no  objection  to 
allowing  his  companion  to  lead  the  way  over 
any  trail  he  saw  fit,  for  he  knew  that  Pie 
had  been  born  and  brought  up  in  the  Pan- 
handle, the  Cunningham  Lake  district  having 
been  his  back  yard,  as  it  were.  So  they  fol- 
lowed the  short  cut  having  the  most  water 
and  grass,  and  pounded  out  a  lively  tattoo 
as  they  raced  over  the  stretches  of  sand  which 
seemed  to  slide  beneath  them. 

"  What  do  yu  know  about  this  here  busi- 
ness?" inquired  Pie,  as  they  raced  past  a 
chaparral  and  onto  the  edge  of  a  grassy  plain. 

u  Nothin'  more'n  yu  do,  only  Buck  said  he 
thought  Slippery  Trendley  is  at  th'  bottom 
of  it." 

What!  "     ejaculated    Pie     in    surprise. 


'Wha-' 
"Him!" 


"  Yore  on.  An'  between  yu  an'  me  an'  th' 
Devil,  I  wouldn't  be  a  heap  surprised  if  Dea- 
con Rankin  is  with  him,  neither." 

Pie  whistled:  "  Are  him  an'  th'  Deacon 
pals?" 

"  Shore,"  replied  Hopalong,  buttoning  up 
300 


A  PROBLEM   SOLVED 

his  vest  and  rolling  a  cigarette.  "  Didn't  they 
allus  hang  out  together!  One  watched  that 
th'  other  didn't  get  plugged  from  behind.  It 
was  a  sort  of  yu-scratch-my-back-an'-I'll- 
scratch-yourn  arrangement." 

"  Well,  if  they  still  hangs  out  together,  I 
know  where  to  hunt  for  our  cows,'  responded 
Pie.  "  Th'  Deacon  used  to  range  along  th' 
headwaters  of  th'  Colorado — it  ain't  far 
from  Cunningham  Lake.  Thunderation !  " 
he  shouted,  "  I  knows  th'  very  ground  they're 
on — I  can  take  yu  to  th'  very  shack !  "  Then 
to  himself  he  muttered :  "  An'  that  doodlebug 
Billy  Jordan  thinkin'  he  knowed  more  about 
th'  Panhandle  than  me !  " 

Hopalong  showed  his  elation  in  an  appro- 
priate manner  and  his  companion  drank 
deeply  from  the  proffered  flask.  Thereupon 
they  treated  their  mounts  to  liberal  doses  of 
strap-oil  and  covered  the  ground  with  great 
speed. 

They  camped  early,  for  Hopalong  was  al- 
most worn  out  from  the  exertions  of  the  past 
few  days  and  the  loss  of  sleep  he  had  sus- 
tained. Pie,  too  excited  to  sleep  and  having 
301 


BAR  —  20 


had  unbroken  rest  for  a  long  period,  volun- 
teered to  keep  guard,  and  his  companion 
eagerly  consented. 

Early  the  next  morning  they  broke  camp, 
and  the  evening  of  the  same  day  found  them 
fording  Sulphur  Spring  Creek,  and  their 
quarry  lay  only  an  hour  beyond,  according  to 
Pie.  Then  they  forded  one  of  the  streams 
which  form  the  headwaters  of  the  Colorado, 
and  two  hours  later  they  dismounted  in  a 
cottonwood  grove.  Picketing  their  horses, 
they  carefully  made  their  way  through  the 
timber,  which  was  heavily  grown  with  brush, 
and,  after  half  an  hour's  maneuvering,  came 
within  sight  of  the  further  edge.  Dropping 
down  on  all  fours,  they  crawled  to  the  last 
line  of  brush  and  looked  out  over  an  exten- 
sive bottoms.  At  their  feet  lay  a  small  river, 
and  in  a  clearing  on  the  farther  side  was  a 
rough  camp,  consisting  of  about  a  dozen  lean- 
to  shacks  and  log  cabins  in  the  main  collec- 
tion, and  a  few  scattered  cabins  along  the 
edge.  A  huge  fire  was  blazing  before  the 
main  collection  of  huts,  and  to  the  rear  of 
302 


A  PROBLEM   SOLVED 

these  was  an  indistinct  black  mass,  which  they 
knew  to  be  the  corral. 

At  a  rude  table  before  the  fire  more  than 
a  score  of  men  were  eating  supper  and  others 
could  be  heard  moving  about  and  talking  at 
different  points  in  the  background.  While 
the  two  scouts  were  learning  the  lay  of  the 
land,  they  saw  Mr.  Trendley  and  Deacon 
Rankin  walk  out  of  the  cabin  most  distant 
from  the  fire,  and  the  latter  limped.  Then 
they  saw  two  men  lying  on  rude  cots,  and  they 
wore  bandages.  Evidently  Johnny  Redmond 
had  scored  in  his  fight. 

The  odor  of  burning  cowhide  came  from 
the  corral,  accompanied  by  the  squeals  of  cat- 
tle, and  informed  them  that  brands  were  be- 
ing blotted  out.  Hopalong  longed  to  charge 
down  and  do  some  blotting  out  of  another 
kind,  but  a  heavy  hand  was  placed  on  his 
shoulder  and  he  silently  wormed  his  way  after 
Pie  as  that  person  led  the  way  back  to  the 
horses.  Mounting,  they  picked  their  way  out 
of  the  grove  and  rode  over  the  plain  at  a 
walk.  When  far  enough  away  to  insure  that 

3°3 


BAR  — 20 


the  noise  made  by  their  horses  would  not 
reach  the  ears  of  those  in  the  camp  they  can- 
tered toward  the  ford  they  had  taken  on  the 
way  up. 

After  emerging  from  the  waters  of  the  last 
forded  stream,  Pie  raised  his  hand  and 
pointed  off  toward  the  northwest,  telling  his 
companion  to  take  that  course  to  reach  Cun- 
ningham Lake.  He  himself  would  ride 
south,  taking,  for  the  saving  of  time,  a  yet 
shorter  trail  to  the  Double  Arrow,  from 
where  he  would  ride  to  Buck.  He  and  the 
others  would  meet  Hopalong  and  Red  at  the 
split  rock  they  had  noticed  on  their  way  up. 

Hopalong  shook  hands  with  his  guide  and 
watched  him  disappear  into  the  night.  He 
imagined  he  could  still  catch  whiffs  of  burn- 
ing cowhide  and  again  the  picture  of  the  camp 
came  to  his  mind.  Glancing  again  at  the 
point  where  Pie  had  disappeared,  he  stuffed 
his  sombrero  under  a  strap  on  his  saddle  and 
slowly  rode  toward  the  lake.  A  coyote  slunk 
past  him  on  a  time-destroying  lope  and  an 
owl  hooted  at  the  foolishness  of  men.  He 
camped  at  the  base  of  a  cottonwood  and  at 
304 


A  PROBLEM   SOLVED 

daylight  took  up  his  journey  after  a  scanty 
breakfast  from  his  saddle-bags. 

Shortly  before  noon  he  came  in  sight  of 
the  lake  and  looked  for  his  friend.  He  had 
just  ridden  around  a  clump  of  cottonwoods 
when  he  was  hit  on  the  back  with  something 
large  and  soft.  Turning  in  his  saddle,  with 
his  Colt's  ready,  he  saw  Red  sitting  on  a 
stump,  a  huge  grin  extending  over  his  fea- 
tures. He  replaced  the  weapon,  said  some- 
thing about  fools  and  dismounted,  kicking 
aside  the  bundle  of  grass  his  friend  had 
thrown. 

"  Yore  shore  easy,"  remarked  Red,  toss- 
ing aside  his  cold  cigarette.  "  Suppose  I  was 
Trendley,  where  would  yu  be  now?  " 

"  Diggin'  a  hole  to  put  yu  in,"  pleasantly 
replied  Hopalong.  "  If  I  didn't  know  he 
wasn't  around  this  part  of  the  country  I 
wouldn't  a  rode  as  I  did." 

The  man  on  the  stump  laughed  and  rolled 
a  fresh  cigarette.  Lighting  it,  he  inquired 
where  Mr.  Trendley  was,  intimating  by  his 
words  that  the  rustler  had  not  been  found. 

"  About  thirty  miles  to  th'  southeast,"  re- 
305 


BAR  —  20 


sponded  the  other.  "He's  figurin'  up  how 
much  dust  he'll  have  when  he  gets  our  cows 
on  th'  market.  Deacon  Rankin  is  with  him, 
too." 

'  Th'  devil !  "  exclaimed  Red,  in  profound 
astonishment. 

"  Yore  right,"  replied  his  companion. 
Then  he  explained  all  the  arrangements  and 
told  of  the  camp. 

Red  was  for  riding  to  the  rendezvous  at 
once,  but  his  friend  thought  otherwise  and 
proposed  a  swim,  which  met  with  approval. 
After  enjoying  themselves  in  the  lake  they 
dressed  and  rode  along  the  trail  Hopalong 
had  made  in  coming  for  his  companion,  it  be- 
ing the  intention  of  the  former  to  learn  more 
thoroughly  the  lay  of  the  land  immediately 
surrounding  the  camp.  Red  was  pleased  with 
this,  and  while  they  rode  he  narrated  all  that 
had  taken  place  since  the  separation  on  the 
Plain,  adding  that  he  had  found  the  trail  left 
by  the  rustlers  after  they  had  quitted  the 
desert  and  that  he  had  followed  it  for  the  last 
two  hours  of  his  journey.  It  was  well  beaten 
and  an  eighth  of  a  mile  wide. 
306 


A  PROBLEM   SOLVED 

At  dark  they  came  within  sight  of  the 
grove  and  picketed  their  horses  at  the  place 
used  by  Pie  and  Hopalong.  Then  they 
moved  forward  and  the  same  sight  greeted 
their  eyes  that  had  been  seen  the  night  before. 
Keeping  well  within  the  edge  of  the  grove 
and  looking  carefully  for  sentries,  they  went 
entirely  around  the  camp  and  picked  out  sev- 
eral places  which  would  be  of  strategic  value 
later  on.  They  noticed  that  the  cabin  used 
by  Slippery  Trendley  was  a  hundred  paces 
from  the  main  collection  of  huts  and  that 
the  woods  came  to  within  a  tenth  part  of  that 
distance  of  its  door.  It  was  heavily  built, 
had  no  windows  and  faced  the  wrong  direc- 
tion. 

Moving  on,  they  discovered  the  store- 
house of  the  enemy,  another  tempting  place. 
It  was  just  possible,  if  a  siege  became  neces- 
sary, for  several  of  the  attacking  force  to  slip 
up  to  it  and  either  destroy  it  by  fire  or  take 
it  and  hold  it  against  all  comers.  This  sug- 
gested a  look  at  the  enemy's  water  supply, 
which  was  the  river.  A  hundred  paces  sepa- 
rated it  from  the  nearest  cabin  and  any  rus- 

307 


BAR  —  20 


tier  who  could  cross  that  zone  under  the  fire 
of  the  besiegers  would  be  welcome  to  his 
drink. 

It  was  very  evident  that  the  rustlers  had 
no  thought  of  defense,  thinking,  perhaps, 
that  they  were  immune  from  attack  with  such 
a  well  covered  trail  between  them  and  their 
foes.  Hopalong  mentally  accused  them  of 
harboring  suicidal  inclinations  and  returned 
with  his  companion  to  the  horses.  They 
mounted  and  sat  quietly  for  a  while,  and  then 
rode  slowly  away  and  at  dawn  reached  the 
split  rock,  where  they  awaited  the  arrival  of 
their  friends,  one  sleeping  while  the  other  kept 
guard.  Then  they  drew  a  rough  map  of  the 
camp,  using  the  sand  for  paper,  and  laid  out 
the  plan  of  attack. 

As  the  evening  of  the  next  day  came  on  they 
saw  Pie,  followed  by  many  punchers,  ride 
over  a  rise  a  mile  to  the  south  and  they 
rode  out  to  meet  him. 

When  the  force  arrived  at  the  camp  of  the 

two  scouts  they  were  shown  the  plan  prepared 

for  them.     Buck  made  a  few  changes  in  the 

disposition  of  the  men  and  then  each  mem- 

308 


A  PROBLEM   SOLVED 

her  was  shown  where  he  was  to  go  and  was 
told  why.  Weapons  were  put  in  a  high  state 
of  efficiency,  canteens  were  refilled  and  haver- 
sacks were  somewhat  depleted.  Then  the 
newcomers  turned  in  and  slept  while  Hopa- 
long  and  Red  kept  guard. 


309 


CHAPTER    XXI 

THE    CALL 

AT  three  o'clock  the  next  morning  a  long 
line  of  men  slowly  filed  into  the  cotton- 
wood  grove,  being  silently  swallowed  up  by 
the  dark.  Dismounting,  they  left  their  horses 
in  the  care  of  three  of  their  number  and  disap- 
peared into  the  brush.  Ten  minutes  later 
forty  of  the  force  were  distributed  along  the 
edge  of  the  grove  fringing  on  the  bank  of  the 
river  and  twenty  more  minutes  gave  ample 
time  for  a  detachment  of  twenty  to  cross  the 
stream  and  find  concealment  in  the  edge  of 
the  woods  which  ran  from  the  river  to  where 
the  corral  made  an  effective  barrier  on  the 
south.  Eight  crept  down  on  the  western  side 
of  the  camp  and  worked  their  way  close  to 
Mr.  Trendley's  cabin  door,  and  the  seven 
who  followed  this  detachment  continued  and 
took  up  their  positions  at  the  rear  of  the  cor- 
ral, where,  it  was  hoped,  some  of  the  rustlers 
310 


THE   CALL 


would  endeavor  to  escape  into  the  woods  by 
working  their  way  through  the  cattle  in  the 
corral  and  then  scaling  the  stockade  wall. 
These  seven  were  from  the  Three  Triangle 
and  the  Double  Arrow,  and  they  were  positive 
that  any  such  attempt  would  not  be  a  success 
from  the  view-point  of  the  rustlers. 

Two  of  those  who  awaited  the  pleasure  of 
Mr.  Trendley  crept  forward,  and  a  rope 
swished  through  the  air  and  settled  over  the 
stump  which  lay  most  convenient  on  the  other 
side  of  the  cabin  door.  Then  the  slack  moved 
toward  the  woods,  raised  from  the  ground 
as  it  grew  taut  and,  with  the  stump  for  its 
axis,  swung  toward  the  door,  where  it  rubbed 
gently  against  the  rough  logs.  It  was  made 
of  braided  horsehair,  was  half  an  inch  in 
diameter  and  was  stretched  eight  inches  above 
the  ground. 

As  it  touched  the  door,  Lanky  Smith,  Hop- 
along  and  Red  stepped  out  of  the  shelter  of 
the  woods  and  took  up  their  positions  behind 
the  cabin,  Lanky  behind  the  northeast  corner 
where  he  would  be  permitted  to  swing  his 
right  arm.  In  his  gloved  right  hand  he  held 


BAR  —  20 


the  carefully  arranged  coils  of  a  fifty-foot 
lariat,  and  should  the  chief  of  the  rustlers 
escape  tripping  he  would  have  to  avoid  the 
cast  of  the  best  roper  in  the  southwest.  The 
two  others  took  the  northwest  corner  and  one 
of  them  leaned  slightly  forward  and  gently 
twitched  the  tripping-rope.  The  man  at  the 
other  end  felt  the  signal  and  whispered  to  a 
companion,  who  quietly  disappeared  in  the 
direction  of  the  river  and  shortly  afterward 
the  mournful  cry  of  a  whip-poor-will  dirged 
out  on  the  early  morning  air.  It  had  hardly 
died  away  when  the  quiet  was  broken  by  one 
terrific  crash  of  rifles,  and  the  two  camp 
guards  asleep  at  the  fire  awoke  in  another 
world. 

Mr.  Trendley,  sleeping  unusually  well  for 
the  unjust,  leaped  from  his  bed  to  the  middle 
of  the  floor  and  alighted  on  his  feet  and  wide 
awake.  Fearing  that  a  plot  was  being  con- 
summated to  deprive  him  of  his  leadership, 
he  grasped  the  Winchester  which  leaned  at 
the  head  of  his  bed  and,  tearing  open  the 
door,  crashed  headlong  to  the  earth.  As  he 
touched  the  ground,  two  shadows  sped  out 
312 


THE   CALL 


from  the  shelter  of  the  cabin  wall  and  pounced 
upon  him.  Men  who  can  rope,  throw  and  tie 
a  wild  steer  in  thirty  seconds  flat  do  not  waste 
time  in  trussing  operations,  and  before  a  min- 
ute had  elapsed  he  was  being  carried  into  the 
woods,  bound  and  helpless.  Lanky  sighed, 
threw  the  rope  over  one  shoulder  and  de- 
parted after  his  friends. 

When  Mr.  Trendley  came  to  his  senses 
he  found  himself  bound  to  a  tree  in  the  grove 
near  the  horses.  A  man  sat  on  a  stump  not 
far  from  him,  three  others  were  seated  around 
a  small  fire  some  distance  to  the  north,  and 
four  others,  one  of  whom  carried  a  rope,  made 
their  way  into  the  brush.  He  strained  at  his 
bonds,  decided  that  the  effort  was  useless 
and  watched  the  man  on  the  stump,  who 
struck  a  match  and  lit  a  pipe.  The  prisoner 
watched  the  light  flicker  up  and  go  out  and 
there  was  left  in  his  mind  a  picture  that  he 
could  never  forget.  The  face  which  had 
been  so  cruelly,  so  grotesquely  revealed  was 
that  of  Frenchy  McAllister,  and  across  his 
knees  lay  a  heavy  caliber  Winchester.  A 
curse  escaped  from  the  lips  of  the  outlaw; 
313 


BAR  —  20 


the  man  on  the  stump  spat  at  a  firefly  and 
smiled. 

From  the  south  came  the  crack  of  rifles, 
incessant  and  sharp.  The  reports  rolled  from 
one  end  of  the  clearing  to  the  other  and 
seemed  to  sweep  in  waves  from  the  center  of 
the  line  to  the  ends.  Faintly  in  the  infrequent 
lulls  in  the  firing  came  an  occasional  report 
from  the  rear  of  the  corral,  where  some  des- 
perate rustler  paid  for  his  venture. 

Buck  went  along  the  line  and  spoke  to  the 
riflemen,  and  after  some  time  had  passed  and 
the  light  had  become  stronger,  he  collected 
the  men  into  groups  of  five  and  six.  Taking 
one  group  and  watching  it  closely,  it  could 
be  seen  that  there  was  a  world  of  meaning  in 
this  maneuver.  One  man  started  firing  at  a 
particular  window  in  an  opposite  hut  and  then 
laid  aside  his  empty  gun  and  waited.  When 
the  muzzle  of  his  enemy's  gun  came  into  sight 
and  lowered  until  it  had  nearly  gained  its 
sight  level,  the  rifles  of  the  remainder  of  the 
group  crashed  out  in  a  volley  and  usually  one 
of  the  bullets,  at  least,  found  its  intended  bil- 
let. This  volley  firing  became  universal 


THE   CALL 


among  the  besiegers  and  the  effect  was 
marked. 

Two  men  sprinted  from  the  edge  of  the 
woods  near  Mr.  Trendley's  cabin  and  gained 
the  shelter  of  the  storehouse,  which  soon 
broke  out  in  flames.  The  burning  brands  fell 
over  the  main  collection  of  huts,  where  there 
was  much  confusion  and  swearing.  The  early 
hour  at  which  the  attack  had  been  delivered 
at  first  led  the  besieged  to  believe  that  it  was 
an  Indian  affair,  but  this  impression  was  soon 
corrected  by  the  volley  firing,  which  turned 
hope  into  despair.  It  was  no  great  matter 
to  fight  Indians,  that  they  had  done  many 
times  and  found  more  or  less  enjoyment  in  it; 
but  there  was  a  vast  difference  between  brave 
and  puncher,  and  the  chances  of  their  salva- 
tion became  very  small.  They  surmised  that 
it  was  the  work  of  the  cow-men  on  whom  they 
had  preyed  and  that  vengeful  punchers  lay 
hidden  behind  that  death-fringe  of  green 
willow  and  hazel. 

Red,  assisted  by  his  inseparable  companion, 
Hopalong,  laboriously  climbed  up  among  the 
branches  of  a  black  walnut  and  hooked  one 
315 


BAR  —  20 


leg  over  a  convenient  limb.  Then  he  lowered 
his  rope  and  drew  up  the  Winchester  which 
his  accommodating  friend  fastened  to  it.  Set- 
tling himself  in  a  comfortable  position  and 
sheltering  his  body  somewhat  by  the  tree,  he 
shaded  his  eyes  by  a  hand  and  peered  into  the 
windows  of  the  distant  cabins. 

"How  is  she,  Red?"  anxiously  inquired 
the  man  on  the  ground. 

"  Bully :  want  to  come  up  ?  " 

"  Nope.  I'm  goin'  to  catch  yu  when  yu 
lets  go,"  replied  Hopalong  with  a  grin. 

"  Which  same  I  ain't  goin'  to,"  responded 
the  man  in  the  tree. 

He  swung  his  rifle  out  over  a  forked  limb 
and  let  it  settle  in  the  crotch.  Then  he 
slewed  his  head  around  until  he  gained  the 
bead  he  wished.  Five  minutes  passed  before 
he  caught  sight  of  his  man  and  then  he  fired. 
Jerking  out  the  empty  shell  he  smiled  and 
called  out  to  his  friend:  "  One." 

Hopalong  grinned  and  went  off  to  tell 
Buck  to  put  all  the  men  in  trees. 

Night  came  on  and  still  the  firing  con- 
tinued. Then  an  explosion  shook  the  woods. 

316 


THE   CALL 


The  storehouse  had  blown  up  and  a  sky  full 
of  burning  timber  fell  on  the  cabins  and  soon 
three  were  half  consumed,  their  occupants 
dropping  as  they  gained  the  open  air.  One 
hundred  paces  makes  fine  pot-shooting,  as 
Deacon  Rankin  discovered  when  evacuation 
was  the  choice  necessary  to  avoid  cremation. 
He  never  moved  after  he  touched  the  ground 
and  Red  called  out:  u  Two,"  not  knowing 
that  his  companion  had  departed. 

The  morning  of  the  next  day  found  a 
wearied  and  hopeless  garrison,  and  shortly 
before  noon  a  soiled  white  shirt  was  flung 
from  a  window  in  the  nearest  cabin.  Buck 
ran  along  the  line  and  ordered  the  firing  to 
cease  and  caused  to  be  raised  an  answering 
flag  of  truce.  A  full  minute  passed  and  then 
the  door  slowly  opened  and  a  leg  protruded, 
more  slowly  followed  by  the  rest  of  the  man, 
and  Cheyenne  Charley  strode  out  to  the  bank 
of  the  river  and  sat  down.  His  example  was 
followed  by  several  others  and  then  an  unex- 
pected event  occurred.  Those  in  the  cabins 
who  preferred  to  die  fighting,  angered  at  this 
desertion,  opened  fire  on  their  former  com- 
317 


BAR  —  20 


rades,  who  barely  escaped  by  rolling  down 
the  slightly  inclined  bank  into  the  river.  Red 
fired  again  and  laughed  to  himself.  Then  the 
fugitives  swam  down  the  river  and  landed 
under  the  guns  of  the  last  squad.  They  were 
taken  to  the  rear  and,  after  being  bound, 
were  placed  under  a  guard.  There  were  seven 
in  the  party  and  they  looked  worn  out. 

When  the  huts  were  burning  the  fiercest  the 
uproar  in  the  corral  arose  to  such  a  pitch  as 
to  drown  all  other  sounds.  There  were  left 
within  its  walls  a  few  hundred  cattle  whose 
brands  had  not  yet  been  blotted  out,  and  these, 
maddened  to  frenzy  by  the  shooting  and  the 
flames,  tore  from  one  end  of  the  inclosure  to 
the  other,  crashing  against  the  alternate  walls 
with  a  noise  which  could  be  heard  far  out 
on  the  plain.  Scores  were  trampled  to  death 
on  each  charge  and  finally  the  uproar  sub- 
sided in  sheer  want  of  cattle  left  with  energy 
enough  to  continue.  When  the  corral  was 
investigated  the  next  day  there  were  found 
the  bodies  of  four  rustlers,  but  recognition 
was  impossible. 

Several  of  the  defenders  were  housed  in 

318 


THE   CALL 


cabins  having  windows  in  the  rear  walls, 
which  the  occupants  considered  fortunate. 
This  opinion  was  revised,  however,  after  sev- 
eral had  endeavored  to  escape  by  these  open- 
ings. The  first  thing  that  occurred  when  a 
man  put  his  head  out  was  the  hum  of  a  bullet, 
and  in  two  cases  the  experimenters  lost  all 
need  of  escape. 

The  volley  firing  had  the  desired  effect,  and 
at  dusk  there  remained  only  one  cabin  from 
which  came  opposition.  Such  a  fire  was  con- 
centrated on  it  that  before  an  hour  had  passed 
the  door  fell  in  and  the  firing  ceased.  There 
was  a  rush  from  the  side,  and  the  Barred 
Horseshoe  men  who  swarmed  through  the 
cabins  emerged  without  firing  a  shot.  The 
organization  that  had  stirred  up  the  Pecos 
Valley  ranches  had  ceased  to  exist. 


319 


CHAPTER   XXII 

THE   SHOWDOWN 

AFIRE  burned  briskly  in  front  of  Mr. 
Trendley's  cabin  that  night  and  several 
punchers  sat  around  it  occupied  in  various 
ways.  Two  men  leaned  against  the  wall  and 
sang  softly  of  the  joys  of  the  trail  and  the 
range.  One  of  them,  Lefty  Allen,  of  the 
O-Bar-O,  sang  in  his  sweet  tenor,  and  other 
men  gradually  strolled  up  and  seated  them- 
selves on  the  ground,  where  the  fitful  gleam 
of  responsive  pipes  and  cigarettes  showed  like 
fireflies.  The  songs  followed  one  after  an- 
other, first  a  lover's  plea  in  soft  Spanish  and 
then  a  rollicking  tale  of  the  cow-towns  and 
men.  Supper  had  long  since  been  enjoyed 
and  all  felt  that  life  was,  indeed,  well  worth 
living. 

A  shadow  loomed  against  the  cabin  wall 
and  a  procession  slowly  made  its  way  toward 
320 


THE   SHOWDOWN 


the  open  door.  The  leader,  Hopalong,  dis- 
appeared within  and  was  followed  by  Mr. 
Trendley,  bound  and  hobbled  and  tied  to  Red, 
the  rear  being  brought  up  by  Frenchy,  whose 
rifle  lolled  easily  in  the  crotch  of  his  elbow. 
The  singing  went  on  uninterrupted  and  the 
hum  of  voices  between  the  selections  remained 
unchanged.  Buck  left  the  crowd  around  the 
fire  and  went  into  the  cabin,  where  his  voice 
was  heard  assenting  to  something.  Hopa- 
long emerged  and  took  a  seat  at  the  fire,  send- 
ing two  punchers  to  take  his  place.  He  was 
joined  by  Frenchy  and  Red,  the  former  very 
quiet. 

In  the  center  of  a  distant  group  were  seven 
men  who  were  not  armed.  Their  belts,  half 
full  of  cartridges,  supported  empty  holsters, 
They  sat  and  talked  to  the  men  around  them, 
swapping  notes  and  experiences,  and  in 
several  instances  found  former  friends  and 
acquaintances.  These  men  were  not  bound 
and  were  apparently  members  of  Buck's 
force.  Then  one  of  them  broke  down,  but 
quickly  regained  his  nerve  and  proposed  a 
game  of  cards.  A  fire  was  started  and  several 
321 


BAR  —  20 


games  were  immediately  in  progress.  These 
seven  men  were  to  die  at  daybreak. 

As  the  night  grew  older  man  after  man 
rolled  himself  in  his  blanket  and  lay  down 
where  he  sat,  sinking  off  to  sleep  with  a  swift- 
ness that  bespoke  tired  muscles  and  weari- 
ness. All  through  the  night,  however,  there 
were  twelve  men  on  guard,  of  whom  three 
were  in  the  cabin. 

At  daybreak  a  shot  from  one  of  the  guards 
awakened  every  man  within  hearing,  and  soon 
they  romped  and  scampered  down  to  the 
river's  edge  to  indulge  in  the  luxury  of  a 
morning  plunge.  After  an  hour's  horseplay 
they  trooped  back  to  the  cabin  and  soon  had 
breakfast  out  of  the  way. 

Waffles,  foreman  of  the  O-Bar-O,  and  You- 
bet  Somes  strolled  over  to  the  seven  unfor- 
tunates who  had  just  completed  a  choking 
breakfast  and  nodded  a  hearty  "  Good  morn- 
ing." Then  others  came  up  and  finally  all 
moved  off  toward  the  river.  Crossing  it, 
they  disappeared  into  the  grove  and  all  sounds 
of  their  advance  grew  into  silence. 

Mr.  Trendley,  escorted  outside  for  the  air, 
322 


THE   SHOWDOWN 


saw  the  procession  as  it  became  lost  to  sight 
in  the  brush.  He  sneered  and  asked  for  a 
smoke,  which  was  granted.  Then  his  guards 
were  changed  and  the  men  began  to  straggle 
back  from  the  grove. 

Mr.  Trendley,  with  his  back  to  the  cabin, 
scowled  defiantly  at  the  crowd  that  hemmed 
him  in.  The  coolest,  most  damnable  mur- 
derer in  the  West  was  not  now  going  to  beg 
for  mercy.  When  he  had  taken  up  crime 
as  a  means  of  livelihood  he  had  decided  that 
if  the  price  to  be  paid  for  his  course  was 
death,  he  would  pay  like  a  man.  He  glanced 
at  the  cottonwood  grove,  wherein  were  many 
ghastly  secrets,  and  smiled.  His  hairless  eye- 
brows looked  like  livid  scars  and  his  lips 
quivered  in  scorn  and  anger. 

As  he  sneered  at  Buck  there  was  a  move- 
ment in  the  crowd  before  him  and  a  pathway 
opened  for  Frenchy,  who  stepped  forward 
slowly  and  deliberately,  as  if  on  his  way  to 
some  bar  for  a  drink.  There  was  something 
different  about  the  man  who  had  searched  the 
Staked  Plain  with  Hopalong  and  Red:  he 
was  not  the  same  puncher  who  had  arrived 

323 


BAR  —  20 


from  Montana  three  weeks  before.  There 
was  lacking  a  certain  air  of  carelessness  and 
he  chilled  his  friends,  who  looked  upon  him  as 
if  they  had  never  really  known  him.  He 
walked  up  to  Mr.  Trendley  and  gazed  deeply 
into  the  evil  eyes. 

Twenty  years  before,  Frenchy  McAllister 
had  changed  his  identity  from  a  happy-go- 
lucky,  devil-may-care  cow-puncher  and  became 
a  machine.  The  grief  that  had  torn  his  soul 
was  not  of  the  kind  which  seeks  its  outlet  in 
tears  and  wailing:  it  had  turned  and  struck 
inward,  and  now  his  deliberate  ferocity  was 
icy  and  devilish.  Only  a  glint  in  his  eyes  told 
of  exultation,  and  his  words  were  sharp  and 
incisive;  one  could  well  imagine  one  heard 
the  click  of  his  teeth  as  they  bit  off  the  conso- 
nants :  every  letter  was  clear-cut,  every  sylla- 
ble startling  in  its  clearness. 

"  Twenty  years  and  two  months  ago 
to-day,"  he  began,  "  you  arrived  at  the  ranch- 
house  of  the  Double  Y,  up  near  the  Montana- 
Wyoming  line.  Everything  was  quiet,  except, 
perhaps,  a  woman's  voice,  singing.  You 
entered,  and  before  you  left  you  pinned  a 
324 


THE   SHOWDOWN 


note  to  that  woman's  dress.  I  found  it,  and 
it  is  due." 

The  air  of  carelessness  disappeared  from 
the  members  of  the  crowd  and  the  silence  be- 
came oppressive.  Most  of  those  present  knew 
parts  of  Frenchy's  story,  and  all  were  in 
hearty  accord  with  anything  he  might  do.  He 
reached  within  his  vest  and  brought  forth  a 
deerskin  bag.  Opening  it,  he  drew  out  a 
package  of  oiled  silk  and  from  that  he  took 
a  paper.  Carefully  replacing  the  silk  and  the 
bag,  he  slowly  unfolded  the  sheet  in  his  hand 
and  handed  it  to  Buck,  whose  face  hardened. 
Two  decades  had  passed  since  the  foreman 
of  the  Bar— 20  had  seen  that  precious  sheet, 
but  the  scene  of  its  finding  would  never  fade 
from  his  memory.  He  stood  as  if  carved 
from  stone,  with  a  look  on  his  face  that 
made  the  crowd  shift  uneasily  and  glance  at 
Trendley. 

Frenchy  turned  to  the  rustler  and  regarded 
him  evilly.  "  You  are  the  hellish  brute  that 
wrote  that  note,"  pointing  to  the  paper  in  the 
hand  of  his  friend.  Then,  turning  again,  he 
spoke :  "  Buck,  read  that  paper." 

325 


BAR  —  20 


The  foreman  cleared  his  throat  and  read 
distinctly : 

"McAllister:     Yore  wife  is  to  damn  good  to  live. 

Trendley." 

There  was  a  shuffling  sound,  but  Buck  and 
Frenchy,  silently  backed  up  by  Hopalong  and 
Red,  intervened,  and  the  crowd  fell  back, 
where  it  surged  in  indecision. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  Frenchy,  "  I  want  you 
to  vote  on  whether  any  man  here  has  more 
right  to  do  with  Slippery  Trendley  as  he  sees 
fit  than  myself.  Any  one  who  thinks  so,  or 
that  he  should  be  treated  like  the  others,  step 
forward.  Majority  rules." 

There  was  no  advance  and  he  spoke  again : 
"  Is  there  any  one  here  who  objects  to  this 
man  dying?  " 

Hopalong  and  Red  awkwardly  bumped 
their  knuckles  against  their  guns  and  there 
was  no  response. 

The  prisoner  was  bound  with  cowhide  to 

the  wall  of  the  cabin  and  four  men  sat  near 

and   facing  him.      The  noonday  meal  was 

eaten  in  silence,   and  the  punchers  rode  off 

326 


THE   SHOWDOWN 


to  see  about  rounding  up  the  cattle  that 
grazed  over  the  plain  as  far  as  eye  could  see. 
Supper-time  came  and  passed,  and  busy  men 
rode  away  in  all  directions.  Others  came  and 
relieved  the  guards,  and  at  midnight  another 
squad  took  up  the  vigil. 

Day  broke  and  the  thunder  of  hoofs  as 
the  punchers  rounded  up  the  cattle  in  herds 
of  about  five  thousand  each  became  very 
noticeable.  One  herd  swept  past  toward  the 
south,  guarded  and  guided  by  fifteen  men. 
Two  hours  later  and  another  followed,  taking 
a  slightly  different  trail  so  as  to  avoid  the 
close-cropped  grass  left  by  the  first.  At 
irregular  intervals  during  the  day  other  herds 
swept  by,  until  six  had  passed  and  denuded 
the  plain  of  cattle. 

Buck,  perspiring  and  dusty,  accompanied 
by  Hopalong  and  Red,  rode  up  to  where  the 
guards  smoked  and  joked.  Frenchy  came  out 
of  the  cabin  and  smiled  at  his  friends.  Swing- 
ing in  his  left  hand  was  a  newly  filled  Colt's 
.45,  which  was  recognized  by  his  friends  as 
the  one  found  in  the  cabin  and  it  bore  a  rough 
"  T  "  gouged  in  the  butt. 

327 


BAR  —  20 


Buck  looked  around  and  cleared  his  throat : 
'  We've  got  th'  cows  on  th'  home  trail, 
Frenchy,"  he  suggested. 

uYas?"  inquired  Frenchy.  "Are  there 
many?  " 

"  Six  drives  of  about  five  thousand  to  th' 
drive." 

"  All  th'  boys  gone?  "  asked  the  man  with 
the  newly  filled  Colt's. 

"  Yas,"  replied  Buck,  waving  his  hand  at 
the  guards,  ordering  them  to  follow  their 
friends.  "  It's  a  good  deal  for  us :  weVe  done 
right  smart  this  hand.  An'  it's  a  good  thing 
we've  got  so  many  punchers :  thirty  thousand's 
a  big  contract." 

"  About  five  times  th'  size  of  th'  herd  that 
blamed  near  made  angels  out'en  me  an'  yu," 
responded  Frenchy  with  a  smile. 

"  I  hope  almighty  hard  that  we  don't  have 
no  stampedes  on  this  here  drive.  Thirty  thou- 
sand locoed  cattle  would  just  about  wipe  up 
this  here  territory.  If  th'  last  herds  go  wild 
they'll  pick  up  th'  others,  an'  then  there'll 
be  th'  devil  to  pay." 

Frenchy  smiled  again  and  shot  a  glance  at 
328 


THE   SHOWDOWN 


where  Mr.  Trendley  was  bound  to  the  cabin 
wall. 

Buck  looked  steadily  southward  for  some 
time  and  then  flecked  a  foam-sud  from  the 
flank  of  his  horse.  u  We  are  goin'  south 
along  th'  Creek  until  we  gets  to  Big  Spring, 
where  we'll  turn  right  smart  to  th'  west.  We 
won't  be  able  to  make  more'n  twelve  miles 
a  day,  'though  I'm  goin'  to  drive  them  hard. 
How's  yore  grub  ?  " 

"  Grub  to  burn." 

"  Got  yore  rope?  "  asked  the  foreman  of 
the  Bar— 20,  speaking  as  if  the  question  had 
no  especial  meaning. 

Frenchy  smiled:  "Yes." 

Hopalong  absent-mindedly  jabbed  his 
spurs  into  his  mount  with  the  result  that  when 
the  storm  had  subsided  the  spell  was  broken 
and  he  said  "  So  long,"  and  rode  south,  fol- 
lowed by  Buck  and  Red.  As  they  swept  out 
of  sight  behind  a  grove  Red  turned  in  his 
saddle  and  waved  his  hat.  Buck  discussed 
with  assiduity  the  prospects  of  a  rainfall  and 
was  very  cheerful  about  the  recovery  of  the 
stolen  cattle.  Red  could  see  a  tall,  broad- 
329 


BAR  —  20 


shouldered  man  standing  with  his  feet  spread 
far  apart,  swinging  a  Colt's  .45,  and  Hopa- 
long  swore  at  everything  under  the  sun.  Dust 
arose  in  streaming  clouds  far  to  the  south  and 
they  spurred  forward  to  overtake  the  outfits. 

Buck  Peters,  riding  over  the  starlit  plain, 
in  his  desire  to  reach  the  first  herd,  which  slept 
somewhere  to  the  west  of  him  under  the  care 
of  Waffles,  thought  of  the  events  of  the  past 
few  weeks  and  gradually  became  lost  in  the 
memories  of  twenty  years  before,  which 
crowded  up  before  his  mind  like  the  notes 
of  a  half-forgotten  song.  His  nature,  tem- 
pered by  two  decades  of  a  harsh  existence, 
softened  as  he  lived  again  the  years  that  had 
passed  and  as  he  thought  of  the  things  which 
had  been.  He  was  so  completely  lost  in  his 
reverie  that  he  failed  to  hear  the  muffled  hoof- 
beats  of  a  horse  that  steadily  gained  upon 
him,  and  when  Frenchy  McAllister  placed 
a  friendly  hand  on  his  shoulder  he  started 
as  if  from  a  deep  sleep. 

The  two  looked  at  each  other  and  their 
hands  met.  The  question  which  sprang  into 

330 


THE   SHOWDOWN 


Buck's  eyes  found  a  silent  answer  in  those  of 
his  friend.  They  rode  on  side  by  side  through 
the  clear  night  and  together  drifted  back  to 
the  days  of  the  Double  Y. 

After  an  hour  had  passed,  the  foreman  of 
the  Bar— 20  turned  to  his  companion  and  then 
hesitated : 

"Did,  did— was  he  a  cur?" 

Frenchy  looked  off  toward  the  south  and, 
after  an  interval,  replied:  "  Yas."  Then,  as 
an  after  thought,  he  added,  "  Yu  see,  he 
never  reckoned  it  would  be  that  way." 

Buck  nodded,  although  he  did  not  fully 
understand,  and  the  subject  was  forever 
closed. 


331 


CHAPTER    XXIII 

MR.  CASSIDY    MEETS   A   WOMAN 

THE  work  of  separating  the  cattle  into 
herds  of  the  different  brands  was  a  big 
contract,  but  with  so  many  men  it  took  but 
a  comparatively  short  time,  and  in  two  weeks 
all  signs  of  the  rustlers  had  faded.  It  was 
then  that  good  news  went  the  rounds  and  the 
men  looked  forward  to  a  week  of  pleasure, 
which  was  all  the  sharper  accentuated  by  the 
grim  mercilessness  of  the  expedition  into  the 
Panhandle.  Here  was  a  chance  for  unlimited 
hilarity  and  a  whole  week  in  which  to  give 
strict  attention  to  celebrating  the  recent  vic- 
tory. 

So  one  day  Mr.  Hopalong  Cassidy  rode 
rapidly  over  the  plain,  thinking  about  the  joys 
and  excitement  promised  by  the  carnival  to 
be  held  at  Muddy  Wells.  With  that  rivalry 
so  common  to  Western  towns  the  inhabitants 
maintained  that  the  carnival  was  to  break  all 
332 


CASSIDY  MEETS  A  WOMAN 

records,  this  because  it  was  to  be  held  in  their 
town.  Perry's  Bend  and  Buckskin  had  each 
promoted  a  similar  affair,  and  if  this  year's 
festivities  were  to  be  an  improvement  on  those 
which  had  gone  before,  they  would  most  cer- 
tainly be  worth  riding  miles  to  see.  Perry's 
Bend  had  been  unfortunate  in  being  the  first 
to  hold  a  carnival,  inasmuch  as  it  only  set  a 
mark  to  be  improved  upon,  and  Buckskin  had 
taken  advantage  of  this  and  had  added  a  brass 
band,  and  now  in  turn  was  to  be  eclipsed. 

The  events  slated  were  numerous  and 
varied,  the  most  important  being  those  which 
dealt  directly  with  the  everyday  occupations 
of  the  inhabitants  of  that  section  of  the  coun- 
try. Broncho  busting,  steer-roping  and  tying, 
rifle  and  revolver  shooting,  trick  riding  and 
fancy  roping  made  up  the  main  features  of  the 
programme  and  were  to  be  set  off  by  horse 
and  foot  racing  and  other  county  fair  neces- 
sities. Buckskin's  brass  band  was  to  be  on 
hand  and  the  climax  was  to  be  capped  by  a 
scientific  exhibition  between  two  real  roped- 
arena  stars.  Therefore  Muddy  Wells  rubbed 
its  hands  and  smiled  in  condescending  egotism 
333 


BAR  —  20 


while  the  crowded  gaming  halls  and  the 
three-card-monte  men  on  the  street  corners 
enriched  themselves  at  the  cost  of  know-it-all 
visitors. 

Hopalong  was  firmly  convinced  that  his  day 
of  hard  riding  was  well  worth  while,  for  the 
Bar— 20  was  to  be  represented  in  strength. 
Probably  a  clearer  insight  into  his  idea  of  a 
carnival  can  be  gained  by  his  definition, 
grouchily  expressed  to  Red  Connors  on  the 
day  following  the  last  affair:  "  Raise  h — 1, 
go  broke,  wake  up  an'  begin  punching  cows 
all  over  again."  But  that  was  the  day  after 
and  the  day  after  is  always  filled  with  remorse. 

Hopalong  and  Red,  having  twice  in  suc- 
cession won  the  revolver  and  rifle  competi- 
tions, respectively,  hoped  to  make  it  "  three 
straight."  Lanky  Smith,  the  Bar— 20  rope  ex- 
pert, had  taken  first  prize  in  the  only  contest 
he  had  entered.  Skinny  Thompson  had  lost 
and  drawn  with  Lefty  Allen,  of  the  O-Bar-O, 
in  the  broncho-busting  event,  but  as  Skinny 
had  improved  greatly  in  the  interval,  his 
friends  confidently  expected  him  to  "  yank 
334 


CASSLDY  MEETS  A  WOMAN 

first  place  "  for  the  honor  of  his  ranch.  These 
expectations  were  backed  with  all  the  avail- 
able Bar— 20  money,  and,  if  they  were  not  real- 
ized, something  in  the  nature  of  a  calamity 
would  swoop  down  upon  and  wrap  that  ranch 
in  gloom.  Since  the  O-Bar-O  was  aggres- 
sively optimistic  the  betting  was  at  even 
money,  hats  and  guns,  and  the  losers  would 
begin  life  anew  so  far  as  earthly  possessions 
were  concerned.  No  other  competitors  were 
considered  in  this  event,  as  Skinny  and  Lefty 
had  so  far  outclassed  all  others  that  the  honor 
was  believed  to  lie  between  these  two. 

Hopalong,  blissfully  figuring  out  the 
chances  of  the  different  contestants,  galloped 
around  a  clump  of  mesquite  only  fifteen  miles 
from  Muddy  Wells  and  stiffened  in  his  sad- 
dle, for  twenty  rods  ahead  of  him  on  the 
trail  was  a  woman.  As  she  heard  him  ap- 
proach she  turned  and  waited  for  him  to  over- 
take her,  and  when  she  smiled  he  raised  his 
sombrero  and  bowed. 

"  Will  you  please  tell  me  where  I  am?" 
she  asked. 

335. 


BAR  —  20 


"  Yu  are  fifteen  miles  southeast  of  Muddy 
Wells,"  he  replied. 

"  But  which  is  southeast?  " 

"  Right  behind  yu,"  he  answered.  "  Th' 
town  lies  right  ahead." 

"  Are  you  going  there?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,  ma'am." 

"  Then  you  will  not  care  if  I  ride  with 
you  ?  "  she  asked.  "  I  am  a  trifle  frightened." 

'*  Why,  I'd  be  some  pleased  if  yu  do, 
'though  there  ain't  nothing  out  here  to  be 
afraid  of  now." 

"  I  had  no  intention  of  getting  lost,"  she 
assured  him,  "  but  I  dismounted  to  pick  flow- 
ers and  cactus  leaves  and  after  a  while  I  had 
no  conception  of  where  I  was." 

"  How  is  it  yu  are  out  here?  "  he  asked. 
"  Yu  shouldn't  get  so  far  from  town." 

"  Why,  papa  is  an  invalid  and  doesn't  like 
to  leave  his  room,  and  the  town  is  so  dull, 
although  the  carnival  is  waking  it  up  some- 
what. Having  nothing  to  do  I  procured  a 
horse  and  determined  to  explore  the  country. 
Why,  this  is  like  Stanley  and  Livingstone, 
isn't  it?  You  rescued  the  explorer!  "  and  she 
336 


CASSIDY  MEETS  A  WOMAN 

laughed  heartily.  He  wondered  who  in 
thunder  Stanley  and  Livingstone  were,  but 
said  nothing. 

"  I  like  the  West,  it  is  so  big  and  free," 
she  continued.  "  But  it  is  very  monotonous 
at  times,  especially  when  compared  with  New 
York.  Papa  swears  dreadfully  at  the  hotel 
and  declares  that  the  food  will  drive  him  in- 
sane, but  I  notice  that  he  eats  much  more 
heartily  than  he  did  when  in  the  city.  And 
the  service! — it  is  awful.  But  when  one 
leaves  the  town  behind  it  is  splendid,  and  I 
can  appreciate  it  because  I  had  such  a  hard 
season  in  the  city  last  winter — so  many  balls, 
parties  and  theaters  that  I  simply  wore  my- 
self out." 

"  I  never  hankered  much  for  them  things," 
Hopalong  replied.  "An7  I  don't  like  th' 
towns  much,  either.  Once  or  twice  a  year  I 
gets  as  far  as  Kansas  City,  but  I  soon  tires 
of  it  an'  hits  th'  back  trail.  Yu  see,  I  don't 
like  a  fence  country — I  wants  lots  of  room 


an'  air." 


She  regarded  him  intently:     "  I  know  that 
you  will  think  me  very  forward." 
337 


BAR  —  20 


He  smiled  and  slowly  replied:  "  I  think 
yu  are  all  O.  K." 

"  There  do  not  appear  to  be  many  women 
in  this  country,"  she  suggested. 

"  No,  there  ain't  many,"  he  replied,  think- 
ing of  the  kind  to  be  found  in  all  of  the  cow- 
towns.  "  They  don't  seem  to  hanker  for  this 
kind  of  life — they  wants  parties  an'  lots  of 
dancin'  an'  them  kind  of  things.  I  reckon 
there  ain't  a  whole  lot  to  tempt  'em  to  come." 
'  You  evidently  regard  women  as  being 
very  frivolous,"  she  replied. 

"  Well,  I'm  speakin'  from  there  not  being 
any  out  here,"  he  responded,  "  although  I 
don't  know  much  about  them,  to  tell  th'  truth. 
Them  what  are  out  here  can't  be  counted." 
Then  he  flushed  and  looked  away. 

She  ignored  the  remark  and  placed  her 
hand  to  her  hair:  "  Goodness!  My  hair 
must  look  terrible !  " 

He  turned  and  looked:  "Yore  hair  is 
pretty — I  allus  did  like  brown  hair." 

She  laughed  and  put  back  the  straggling 
locks :  "  It  is  terrible !  Just  look  at  it !  Isn't 
it  awful?" 

338 


CASSIDY  MEETS  A  WOMAN 

4  Why,  no:  I  reckons  not,"  he  replied 
critically.  "  It  looks  sort  of  free  an1  easy 
thataway." 

"  Well,  it's  no  matter,  it  cannot  be  helped," 
she  laughed.  "  Let's  race !  "  she  cried  and 
was  off  like  a  shot. 

He  humored  her  until  he  saw  that  her 
mount  was  getting  unmanageable,  when  he 
quietly  overtook  her  and  closed  her  pony's 
nostrils  with  his  hand,  the  operation  having 
a  most  gratifying  effect. 

"  Joe  hadn't  oughter  let  yu  had  this  cay- 
use,"  he  said. 

'*  Why,  how  do  you  know  of  whom  I  pro- 
cured it?  "  she  asked. 

"By  th'  brand:  it's  a  O-Bar-O,  canceled, 
with  J.  H.  over  it.  He  buys  all  of  his  cay- 
uses  from  th'  O-Bar-O." 

She  found  out  his  name,  and,  after  an  in- 
terval of  silence,  she  turned  to  him  with  eyes 
full  of  inquiry :  "  What  is  that  thorny  shrub 
just  ahead?"  she  asked. 

1  That's  mesquite,"  he  replied  eagerly. 

"  Tell  me  all  about  it,"  she  commanded. 

"  Why,  there  ain't  much  to  tell,"  he  re- 
339 


BAR  —  20 


plied,  "  only  it's  a  valuable  tree  out  here.  Th' 
Apaches  use  it  a  whole  lot  of  ways.  They 
get  honey  from  th'  blossoms  an'  glue  an'  gum, 
an'  they  use  th'  bark  for  tannin'  hide.  Th' 
dried  pods  an'  leaves  are  used  to  feed  their 
cattle,  an'  th'  wood  makes  corrals  to  keep  'em 
in.  They  use  th'  wood  for  making  other 
things,  too,  an'  it  is  of  two  colors.  Th'  sap 
makes  a  dye  what  won't  wash  out,  an'  th' 
beans  make  a  bread  what  won't  sour  or  get 
hard.  Then  it  makes  a  barrier  that  shore  is 
a  dandy — coyotes  an'  men  can't  get  through 
it,  an'  it  protects  a  whole  lot  of  birds  an' 
things.  Th'  snakes  hate  it  like  poison,  for  th' 
thorns  get  under  their  scales  an'  whoops 
things  up  for  'em.  It  keeps  th'  sand  from 
shiftin',  too.  Down  South  where  there  is 
plenty  of  water,  it  often  grows  forty  feet 
high,  but  up  here  it  squats  close  to  th'  ground 
so  it  can  save  th'  moisture.  In  th'  night  th' 
temperature  sometimes  falls  thirty  degrees, 
an'  that  helps  it,  too." 

"How  can  it  live  without  water?"   she 
asked. 

"  It  gets  all  th'  water  it  wants,"  he  replied, 
340 


CASSIDY  MEETS  A  WOMAN 

smiling.  "  Th'  tap  roots  go  straight  down 
'til  they  find  it,  sometimes  fifty  feet.  That's 
why  it  don't  shrivel  up  in  th'  sun.  Then  there 
are  a  lot  of  little  roots  right  under  it  an'  they 
protects  th'  tap  roots.  Th'  shade  it  gives  is 
th'  coolest  out  here,  for  th'  leaves  turn  with 
th'  wind  an'  lets  th'  breeze  through — they're 
hung  on  little  stems." 

"  How  splendid !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Oh ! 
Look  there !  "  she  cried,  pointing  ahead  of 
them.  A  chaparral  cock  strutted  from  its  de- 
capitated enemy,  a  rattlesnake,  and  disap- 
peared in  the  chaparral. 

Hopalong  laughed:  "  Mr.  Scissors-bill 
Read-runner  has  great  fun  with  snakes.  He 
runs  along  th'  sand — an'  he  can  run,  too — 
an'  sees  a  snake  takin'  a  siesta.  Snip !  goes 
his  bill  an'  th'  snake  slides  over  th'  Divide. 
Our  fighting  friend  may  stop  some  coyote's 
appetite  before  morning,  though,  unless  he 
stays  where  he  is." 

Just  then  a  gray  wolf  blundered  in  sight 
a  few  rods  ahead  of  them,  and  Hopalong 
fired  instantly.     His  companion  shrunk  from 
him  and  looked  at  him  reproachfully. 
341 


BAR  —  20 


"  Why  did  you  do  that!  "  she  demanded. 

"  Why,  because  they  costs  us  big  money 
every  year,"  he  replied.  "  There's  a  bounty 
on  them  because  they  pull  down  calves,  an' 
sometimes  full  grown  cows.  I'm  shore  won- 
derin'  why  he  got  so  close — they're  usually 
just  out  of  range,  where  they  stays." 

"  Promise  me  that  you  will  shoot  no  more 
while  I  am  with  you." 

"  Why,  shore :  I  didn't  think  yu'd  care," 
he  replied.  "  Yu  are  like  that  sky-pilot  over 
to  Las  Cruces — he  preached  agin  killin' 
things,  which  is  all  right  for  him,  who  didn't 
have  no  cows." 

"  Do  you  go  to  the  missions?  "  she  asked. 

He  replied  that  he  did,  sometimes,  but  for- 
got to  add  that  it  was  usually  for  the  purpose 
of  hilarity,  for  he  regarded  sky-pilots  with 
humorous  toleration. 

"  Tell  me  all  about  yourself — what  you  do 
for  enjoyment  and  all  about  your  work,"  she 
requested. 

He  explained  in  minute  detail  the  art  of 
punching  cows,  and  told  her  more  of  the  West 
in  half  an  hour  than  she  could  have  learned 
342 


CASSIDY  MEETS  A  WOMAN 

from  a  year's  experience.  She  showed  such 
keen  interest  in  his  words  that  it  was  a  pleas- 
ure to  talk  to  her,  and  he  monopolized  the 
conversation  until  the  town  intruded  its 
sprawling  collection  of  unpainted  shacks  and 
adobe  huts  in  their  field  of  vision. 


343 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

THE   STRATEGY   OF   MR.    PETERS 

HOPALONG  and  his  companion  rode 
into  Muddy  Wells  at  noon,  and  Red 
Connors,  who  leaned  with  Buck  Peters 
against  the  side  of  Tom  Lee's  saloon,  gasped 
his  astonishment.  Buck  looked  twice  to  be 
sure,  and  then  muttered  incredulously: 
"  What  th'  h— 1 !  "  Red  repeated  the  phrase 
and  retreated  within  the  saloon,  while  Buck 
stood  his  ground,  having  had  much  experience 
with  women,  inasmuch  as  he  had  narrowly 
escaped  marrying.  He  thought  that  he  might 
as  well  get  all  the  information  possible,  and 
waited  for  an  introduction.  It  was  in  vain, 
however,  for  the  two  rode  past  without  notic- 
ing him. 

Buck  watched  them  turn  the  corner  and 
then  called  for  Red  to  come  out,  but  that  per- 
son, fearing  an  ordeal,  made  no  reply  and 
the  foreman  went  in  after  him.    The  timorous 
344 


THE  STRATEGY  OF  PETERS 

one  was  corraling  bracers  at  the  bar  and 
nearly  swallowed  down  the  wrong  channel 
when  Buck  placed  a  heavy  hand  on  his  broad 
shoulder. 

"G'way!"  remarked  Red.  "I  don't 
want  no  introduction,  none  whatever,"  he 
asserted.  "G'way!"  he  repeated,  backing 
off  suspiciously. 

"  Better  wait  'til  yu  are  asked,"  suggested 
Buck.  "  Better  wait  'til  yu  sees  th'  rope  afore 
yu  duck."  Then  he  laughed:  "  Yu  bashful 
fellers  make  me  plumb  disgusted.  Why,  I've 
seen  yu  face  a  bunch  of  guns  an'  never  turn 
a  hair,  an'  here  yore  all  in  because  yu  fear 
yu'll  have  to  stand  around  an'  hide  yore 
hands.  She  won't  bite  yu.  Anyway,  from 
what  I  saw,  Hopalong  is  due  to  be  her  grub — 
he  never  saw  me  at  all,  th'  chump." 

"  He  shore  didn't  see  me,  none,"  replied 
Red  with  distinct  relief.  "  Are  they  gone?  " 

"  Shore,"  answered  Buck.  "  An'  if  they 
wasn't  they  wouldn't  see  us,  not  if  we  stood 
in  front  of  them  an'  yelled.  She's  a  hummer 
— stands  two  hands  under  him  an'  is  a  whole 
lot  prettier  than  that  picture  Cowan  has  got 
345 


BAR  —  20 


over  his  bar.  There's  nothing  th'  matter  with 
his  eyesight,  but  he's  plumb  locoed,  all  th' 
same.  He'll  go  an'  get  stuck  on  her  an'  then 
she'll  hit  th'  trail  for  home  an1  mamma,  an' 
he  won't  be  worth  his  feed  for  a  year."  Then 
he  paused  in  consternation :  "  Thunder,  Red : 
he's  got  to  shoot  to-morrow !  " 

"  Well,  suppose  he  has?  "  responded  Red. 
"  I  don't  reckon  she'll  stampede  his  gun-play 


none." 


"  Yu  don't  reckon,  eh?"  queried  Buck 
with  much  irony.  "  No,  an'  that's  what's  th' 
matter  with  yu.  Why,  do  yu  expect  to  see 
him  to-morrow?  Yu  won't  if  I  knows  him 
an'  I  reckon  I  do.  Nope,  he'll  be  follerin' 
her  all  around." 

"  He's  got  sand  to  burn,"  remarked  Red  in 
awe.  "  Wonder  how  he  got  to  know  her?  " 

"  Yu  can  gamble  she  did  th'  introducing 
part — he  ain't  got  th'  nerve  to  do  it  himself. 
He  saved  her  life,  or  she  thinks  he  did,  or 
some  romantic  nonsense  like  that.  So  yu 
better  go  around  an'  get  him  away,  an'  keep 
him  away,  too." 

4  Who,  me?  "  inquired  Red  in  indignation. 

346 


THE   STRATEGY   OF   PETERS 

"  Me  go  around  an'  tote  him  off?  /  ain't  no 
wagon :  yu  go,  or  send  Johnny." 

"  Johnny  would  say  something  real  pert 
an'  get  knocked  into  th'  middle  of  next  week 
for  it.  He  won't  do,  so  I  reckon  yu  better  go 
yoreself,"  responded  Buck,  smiling  broadly 
and  moving  off. 

"  Hey,  yu!  Wait  a  minute!"  cried  Red 
in  consternation.  Buck  paused  and  Red 
groped  for  an  excuse :  "  Why  don't  you  send 
Billy?"  he  blurted  in  desperation. 

The  foreman's  smile  assumed  alarming 
proportions  and  he  slapped  his  thigh  in  joy: 
"  Good  boy !  "  he  laughed.  "  Billy's  th'  man 
— good  Lord,  but  won't  he  give  Cupid  cold 
feet  1  Rustle  around  an'  send  th'  pessimistic 
soul  to  me." 

Red,  grinning  and  happy,  rapidly  visited 
door  after  door,  shouted,  "Hey,  Billy!" 
and  proceeded  to  the  next  one.  He  was  get- 
ting pugnacious  at  his  lack  of  success  when  he 
espied  Mr.  Billy  Williams  tacking  along  the 
accidental  street  as  if  he  owned  it.  Mr.  Wil- 
liams was  executing  fancy  steps  and  was  try- 
ing to  sing  many  songs  at  once. 

347 


BAR  —  20 


Red  stopped  and  grabbed  his  bibulous 
friend  as  that  person  veered  to  starboard: 
"  Yore  a  peach  of  a  life-preserver,  yu  are !  " 
he  exclaimed. 

Billy  balanced  himself,  swayed  back  and 
forth  and  frowned  his  displeasure  at  this  un- 
warranted action:  "I  ain't  no  wife-de- 
serter! "  he  shouted.  "  Unrope  me  an'  give 
me  th'  trail !  No  tenderfoot  can  ride  me !  " 
Then  he  recognized  his  friend  and  grinned 
joyously:  "  Shore  I  will,  but  only  one.  Jus' 
one  more,  jus'  one  more.  Yu  see,  m'  friend, 
it  was  all  Jimmy's  fault.  He " 

Red  secured  a  chancery  hold  and  dragged 
his  wailing  and  remonstrating  friend  to  Buck, 
who  frowned  his  displeasure. 

"  This  yere,"  said  Red  in  belligerent  dis- 
gust, "  is  th'  dod-blasted  hero  what's  a-goin' 
to  save  Hopalong  from  a  mournful  future. 
What  are  we  a-goin'  to  do?  " 

Buck  slipped  the  Colt's  from  Billy's  holster 
and  yanked  the  erring  one  to  his  feet:  "  Fill 
him  full  of  sweet  oil,  souce  him  in  th'  trough, 
walk  him  around  for  awhile  an'  see  what  it 
does,"  he  ordered. 

348 


THE   STRATEGY   OF   PETERS 

Two  hours  later  Billy  walked  up  to  his 
foreman  and  weakly  asked  what  was  wanted. 
He  looked  as  though  he  had  just  been  released 
from  a  six-months'  stay  in  a  hospital. 

"  Yu  go  over  to  th'  hotel  an'  find  Hopa- 
long,"  said  the  foreman  sternly.  "  Stay  with 
him  all  th'  time,  for  there  is  a  plot  on  foot 
to  wing  him  on  th'  sly.  If  yu  ain't  mighty 
spry  he'll  be  dead  by  night." 

Having  delivered  the  above  instructions 
and  prevarications,  Buck  throttled  the  laugh 
which  threatened  to  injure  him  and  scowled 
at  Red,  who  again  fled  into  the  saloon  for 
fear  of  spoiling  it  all  with  revealed  mirth. 

The  convalescent  stared  in  open-mouthed 
astonishment : 

"  What's  he  doin'  in  th'  hotel,  an'  who's 
goin'  to  plug  him  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yu  leave  that  to  me,"  replied  Buck. 
"  All  yu  has  to  do  is  to  get  on  th'  job  with 
yore  gun,"  handing  the  weapon  to  him,  "  an' 
freeze  to  him  like  a  flea  on  a  cow.  Mebby 
there'll  be  a  woman  in  th'  game,  but  that  ain't 
none  of  yore  funeral — yu  do  what  I  said." 

"  D — n  th'  women !  "  exploded  Billy,  mov- 

349 


BAR  —  20 


ing  off.  When  he  had  entered  the  hotel  Buck 
went  in  to  Red. 

"  For  God's  sake !  "  moaned  that  person 
in  senseless  reiteration.  "  Th'  Lord  help 
Billy!  Holy  Mackinaw!"  he  shouted. 
"  Gimme  a  drink  an'  let  me  tell  th'  boys." 

The  members  of  the  outfit  were  told  of  the 
plot  and  they  gave  their  uproarious  sanction, 
all  needing  bracers  to  sustain  them. 

Billy  found  the  clerk  swapping  lies  with 
the  bartender  and,  procuring  the  desired  in- 
formation, climbed  the  stairs  and  hunted  for 
room  No.  6.  Discovering  it,  he  dispensed 
with  formality,  pushed  open  the  door  and 
entered. 

He  found  his  friend  engaged  in  conversa- 
tion with  a  pretty  young  woman,  and  on  a 
couch  at  the  far  side  of  the  room  lay  an 
elderly,  white-whiskered  gentleman  who  was 
reading  a  magazine.  Billy  felt  like  a  criminal 
for  a  few  seconds  and  then  there  came  to  him 
the  thought  that  his  was  a  mission  of  great 
import  and  he  braced  himself  to  face  any 
ordeal.  "  Anyway,"  he  thought,  "  th'  pret- 
tier they  are  th'  more  h — 1  they  can  raise." 
350 


THE   STRATEGY   OF   PETERS 

"  What  are  yu  doing  here?  "  cried  Hopa- 
long  in  amazement. 

;'  That's  all  right,"  averred  the  protector, 
confidentially. 

"What's  all  right  ?" 

"  Why,  everything,"  replied  Billy,  feeling 
uncomfortable. 

The  elderly  man  hastily  sat  up  and  dropped 
his  magazine  when  he  saw  the  armed  intruder, 
his  eyes  as  wide  open  as  his  mouth.  He  felt 
for  his  spectacles,  but  did  not  need  them,  for 
he  could  see  nothing  but  the  Colt's  which 
Billy  jabbed  at  him. 

"  None  of  that!  "  snapped  Billy.  "  'Nds 
up !  "  he  ordered,  and  the  hands  went  up  so 
quick  that  when  they  stopped  the  jerk  shook 
the  room.  Peering  over  the  gentleman's  leg, 
Billy  saw  the  spectacles  and  backed  to  the 
wall  as  he  apologized :  "  It's  shore  on  me, 
Stranger — I  reckoned  yu  was  contemplatin' 
some  gun-play." 

Hopalong,  blazing  with  wrath,  arose  and 
shoved  Billy  toward  the  hall,  when  Mr. 
Johnny  Nelson,  oozing  fight  and  importance, 
intruded  his  person  into  the  zone  of  action. 

351 


BAR  —  20 


"Lord!"  ejaculated  the  newcomer,  star- 
ing at  the  vision  of  female  loveliness  which  so 
suddenly  greeted  him.  "  Mamma,"  he  added 
under  his  breath.  Then  he  tore  off  his  som- 
brero :  "  Come  out  of  this,  Billy,  yu  chump !  " 
he  exploded,  backing  toward  the  door,  being 
followed  by  the  protector. 

Hopalong  slammed  the  door  and  turned 
to  his  hostess,  apologizing  for  the  disturbance. 

"  Who  are  they?  "  palpitated  Miss  Deane. 

"  What  the  h — 1  are  they  doing  up  here!  " 
blazed  her  father. 

Hopalong  disclaimed  any  knowledge  of 
them  and  just  then  Billy  opened  the  door  and 
looked  in. 

"There  he  is  again!  "  cried  Miss  Deane, 
and  her  father  gasped. 

Hopalong  ran  out  into  the  hall  and  nar- 
rowly missed  kicking  Billy  into  Kingdom 
Come  as  that  person  slid  down  the  stairs,  sur- 
prised and  indignant. 

Mr.  Billy  Williams,  who  sat  at  the  top  of 
the  stairs,  was  feeling  hungry  and  thirsty 
when  he  saw  his  friend,  Mr.  Pete  Wilson, 
the  slow  witted,  approaching. 

352  i 


THE   STRATEGY   OF   PETERS 

"  Hey,  Pete,"  he  called,  "  come  up  here 
an'  watch  this  door  while  I  rustles  some  grub. 
Keep  yore  eyes  open,"  he  cautioned. 

As  Pete  began  to  feel  restless  the  door 
opened  and  a  dignified  gentleman  with  white 
whiskers  came  out  into  the  hall  and  then  re- 
treated with  great  haste  and  no  dignity.  Pete 
got  the  drop  on  the  door  and  waited.  Hopa- 
long  yanked  it  open  and  kissed  the  muzzle 
of  the  weapon  before  he  could  stop,  and  Pete 
grinned. 

"  Coming  to  th'  fight?  "  he  loudly  asked. 
"  It's  going  to  be  a  h — 1  of  a  sumptious  scrap 
— just  th'  kind  yu  allus  like.  Come  on,  th' 
boys  are  waitin'  for  yu." 

"  Keep  quiet!  "  hissed  Hopalong. 

"  What  for?"  asked  Pete  in  surprise. 
"  Didn't  yu  say  yu  shore  wanted  to  see  that 
scrap?" 

"  Shut  yore  face  an'  get  scarce,  or  yu'll  go 
home  in  cans !  " 

As  Hopalong  seated  himself  once  more 
Red  strolled  up  to  the  door  and  knocked. 
Hopalong  ripped  it  open  and  Red,  looking 
as  fierce  and  worried  as  he  could,  asked  Hopa- 

353 


BAR  —  20 


long  if  he  was  all  right.  Upon  being  assured 
by  smoking  adjectives  that  he  was,  the  caller 
looked  relieved  and  turned  thoughtfully 
away. 

uHey,  yu!  Come  here!"  called  Hopa- 
long. 

Red  waved  his  hand  and  said  that  he  had 
to  meet  a  man  and  clattered  down  the  stairs. 
Hopalong  thought  that  he,  also,  had  to  meet 
a  man  and,  excusing  himself,  hastened  after 
his  friend  and  overtook  him  in  the  street, 
where  he  forced  a  confession.  Returning  to 
his  hostess  he  told  her  of  the  whole  outrage, 
and  she  was  angry  at  first,  but  seeing  the 
humorous  side  of  it,  she  became  convulsed 
with  laughter.  Her  father  re-read  his  para- 
graph for  the  thirteenth  time  and  then,  slam- 
ming the  magazine  on  the  floor,  asked  how 
many  times  he  was  expected  to  read  ten  lines 
before  he  knew  what  was  in  them,  and  went 
down  to  the  bar. 

Miss  Deane  regarded  her  companion  with 
laughing  eyes  and  then  became  suddenly  sober 
as  he  came  toward  her. 

"Go  to  your  foreman  and  tell  him  that 

354 


THE   STRATEGY   OF   PETERS 

you  will  shoot  to-morrow,  for  I  will  see  that 
you  do,  and  I  will  bring  luck  to  the  Bar-2O. 
Be  sure  to  call  for  me  at  one  o'clock:  I  will 
be  ready." 

He  hesitated,  bowed,  and  slowly  departed, 
making  his  way  to  Tom  Lee's,  where  his  en- 
trance hushed  the  hilarity  which  had  reigned. 
Striding  to  where  Buck  stood,  he  placed  his 
hands  on  his  hips  and  searched  the  foreman's 
eyes. 

Buck  smiled:  "  Yu  ain't  mad,  are  yu?  "  he 
asked. 

Hop  along  relaxed:  "No,  but  d — n 
near  it." 

Red  and  the  others  grabbed  him  from  the 
rear,  and  when  he  had  been  "  buffaloed  "  into 
good  humor  he  threw  them  from  him,  laughed 
and  waved  his  hand  toward  the  bar: 

"  Come  up,  yu  sons-of-guns.  Yore  a  d — d 
nuisance  sometimes,  but  yore  a  bully  gang  all 
th'  same." 


355! 


CHAPTER    XXV 

MR.    EWALT   DRAWS   CARDS 

TEX  EWALT,  cow-puncher,  prospector, 
sometimes  a  rustler,  but  always  a  dude, 
rode  from  El  Paso  in  deep  disgust  at  his 
steady  losses  at  faro  and  monte.  The  pecuni- 
ary side  of  these  caused  him  no  worry,  for  he 
was  flush.  This  pleasing  opulence  was  due 
to  his  business  ability,  for  he  had  recently 
sold  a  claim  for  several  thousand  dollars. 
The  first  operation  was  simple,  being  known 
in  Western  phraseology  as  "  jumping  ";  and 
the  second,  somewhat  more  complicated,  was 
known  as  "  salting." 

The  first  of  the  money  spent  went  for  a 
complete  new  outfit,  and  he  had  parted  with 
just  three  hundred  and  seventy  dollars  to  feed 
his  vanity.  He  desired  something  contrasty 
and  he  procured  it.  His  sombrero,  of  gray 
felt  a  quarter  of  an  inch  thick,  flaunted  a  band 
of  black  leather,  on  which  was  conspicuously 

356 


MR.   EWALT   DRAWS   CARDS 

displayed  a  solid  silver  buckle.  His  neck  was 
protected  by  a  crimson  kerchief  of  the  finest, 
heaviest  silk.  His  shirt,  in  pattern  the  same 
as  those  commonly  worn  in  the  cow  country, 
was  of  buckskin,  soft  as  a  baby's  cheek  and 
impervious  to  water,  and  the  Angora  goat- 
skin chaps,  with  the  long  silken  hair  worn 
outside,  were  as  white  as  snow.  Around  his 
waist  ran  loosely  a  broad,  black  leather  belt 
supporting  a  heavy  black  holster,  in  which 
lay  its  walnut-handled  burden,  a  .44  caliber 
Remington  six-shooter;  and  fifty  center-fire 
cartridges  peeked  from  their  loops,  twenty- 
five  on  a  side.  His  boots,  the  soles  thin  and 
narrow  and  the  heels  high,  were  black  and  of 
the  finest  leather.  Huge  spurs,  having  two- 
inch  rowels,  were  held  in  place  by  buckskin 
straps,  on  which,  also,  were  silver  buckles. 
Protecting  his  hands  were  heavy  buckskin 
gloves,  also  waterproof,  having  wide,  black 
gauntlets. 

Each  dainty  hock  of  his  dainty  eight-hun- 
dred-pound buckskin  pony  was  black,  and  a 
black  star  graced  its  forehead.  Well 
groomed,  with  flowing  mane  and  tail,  and 

357 


BAR  —  20 


with  the  brand  on  its  flank  being  almost  im- 
perceptible, the  animal  was  far  different  in 
appearance  from  most  of  the  cow-ponies. 
Vicious  and  high-spirited,  it  cavorted  just 
enough  to  show  its  lines  to  the  best  advantage. 

The  saddle,  a  famous  Cheyenne  and  forty 
pounds  in  weight,  was  black,  richly  embossed, 
and  decorated  with  bits  of  beaten  silver  which 
flashed  back  the  sunlight.  At  the  pommel 
hung  a  thirty-foot  coil  of  braided  horsehair 
rope,  and  at  the  rear  was  a  Sharp's  .5<>caliber, 
breech-loading  rifle,  its  owner  having  small 
use  for  any  other  make.  The  color  of  the 
bridle  was  the  same  as  the  saddle  and  it  sup- 
ported a  heavy  U  bit  which  was  capable  of  a 
leverage  sufficient  to  break  the  animal's  jaw. 

Tex  was  proud  of  his  outfit,  but  his  face 
wore  a  frown — not  there  only  on  account  of 
his  losses,  but  also  by  reason  of  his  mission, 
for  under  all  his  finery  beat  a  heart  as  black 
as  any  in  the  cow  country.  For  months  he 
had  smothered  hot  hatred  and  he  was  now 
on  his  way  to  ease  himself  of  it. 

He  and  Slim  Travennes  had  once  ex- 
changed shots  with  Hopalong  in  Santa  Fe, 

358 


MR.    EWALT   DRAWS   CARDS 

and  the  month  which  he  had  spent  in  bed  was 
not  pleasing,  and  from  that  encounter  had 
sprung  the  hatred.  That  he  had  been  in  the 
wrong  made  no  difference  with  him.  Some 
months  later  he  had  learned  of  the  death  of 
Slim,  and  it  was  due  to  the  same  man.  That 
Slim  had  again  been  in  the  wrong  also  made 
no  difference,  for  he  realized  the  fact  and 
nothing  else.  Lately  he  had  been  told  of  the 
death  of  Slippery  Trendley  and  Deacon  Ran- 
kin,  and  he  accepted  their  passing  as  a  per- 
sonal affront.  That  they  had  been  caught  red- 
handed  in  cattle  stealing  of  huge  proportions 
and  received  only  what  was  customary  under 
the  conditions  formed  no  excuse  in  his  mind 
for  their  passing.  He  was  now  on  his  way  to 
attend  the  carnival  at  Muddy  Wells,  knowing 
that  his  enemy  would  be  sure  to  be  there. 

While  passing  through  Las  Cruces  he  met 
Porous  Johnson  and  Silent  Somes,  who  were 
thirsty  and  who  proclaimed  that  fact,  where- 
upon he  relieved  them  of  their  torment  and, 
looking  forward  to  more  treatment  of  a  simi- 
lar nature,  they  gladly  accompanied  him  with- 
out asking  why  or  where. 

359 


BAR  —  20 


As  they  left  the  town  in  their  rear  Tex 
turned  in  his  saddle  and  surveyed  them  with 
a  cynical  smile. 

"  Have  yu  heard  anything  of  Trendley?  " 
he  asked. 

They  shook  their  heads. 

"  Him  an'  th'  Deacon  was  killed  over  in 
th'  Panhandle,"  he  said. 

"  What !  "  chorused  the  pair. 

"  Jack  Dorman,  Shorty  Danvers,  Charley 
Teale,  Stiffhat  Bailey,  Billy  Jackson,  Terry 
Nolan  an'  Sailor  Carson  was  lynched." 

"  What!  "  they  shouted. 

"  Fish  O'Brien,  Pinochle  Schmidt,  Tom 
Wilkins,  Apache  Gordon,  Charley  of  th' 
Bar  Y,  Penobscot  Hughes  an'  about  twenty 
others  died  fightin'." 

Porous  looked  his  astonishment:  "Cav- 
alry?" 

"  An'  I'm  going  after  th' who  did  it," 

he  continued,  ignoring  the  question.  "  Are 
yu  with  me? — yu  used  to  pal  with  some  of 
them,  didn't  yu?" 

"  We  did  ,  an'  we're  shore  with  yu !  "  cried 
Porous. 

360 


MR.    EWALT   DRAWS    CARDS 

"  Yore  right,"  endorsed  Silent.  "  But  who 
done  it?" 

"  That  gang  what's  punchin'  for  th'  Bar 
20 — Hopalong  Cassidy  is  th'  one  I'm  pining 
for.  Yu  fellers  can  take  care  of  Peters  an' 
Connors." 

The  two  stiffened  and  exchanged  glances 
of  uncertainty  and  apprehension.  The  outfit 
of  the  Bar— 20  was  too  well  known  to  cause 
exuberant  joy  to  spring  from  the  idea  of  war 
with  it,  and  well  in  the  center  of  all  the  tales 
concerning  it  were  the  persons  Tex  had 
named.  To  deliberately  set  forth  with  the 
avowed  intention  of  planting  these  was  not 
at  all  calculated  to  induce  sweet  dreams. 

Tex  sneered  his  contempt. 

'  Yore  shore  uneasy :  yu  ain't  a-scared,  are 
yu?  "  he  drawled. 

Porous  relaxed  and  made  a  show  of  subdu- 
ing his  horse:  "  I  reckon  I  ain't  scared  plumb 
to  death.  Yu  can  deal  me  a  hand,"  he  as- 
serted. 

u  I'll  draw  cards  too,"  hastily  announced 
Silent,  buttoning  his  vest.  "  Tell  us  about 
that  jamboree  over  in  th'  Panhandle." 

361 


BAR  — 20 


Tex  repeated  the  story  as  he  had  heard  it 
from  a  bibulous  member  of  the  Barred  Horse- 
shoe, and  then  added  a  little  of  torture  as  a 
sauce  to  whet  their  appetites  for  revenge. 

"How  did  Trendley  cash  in?"  asked 
Porous. 

"  Nobody  knows  except  that  bum  from  th' 
Tin-Cup.  I'll  get  him  later.  I'd  a  got  Cas- 
sidy  up  in  Santa  Fe,  too,  if  it  wasn't  for  th' 
sun  in  my  eyes.  Me  an'  Slim  loosened  up 
on  him  in  th'  Plaza,  but  we  couldn't  see  noth- 
ing with  him  a-standin'  against  th'  sun." 

"  Where's  Slim  now?  "  asked  Porous.  "  I 
ain't  seen  him  for  some  time." 

"Slim's  with  Trendley,"  replied  Tex. 
"  Cassidy  handed  him  over  to  St.  Pete  at 
Cactus  Springs.  Him  an'  Connors  sicked 
their  outfit  on  him  an'  his  vigilantes,  bein' 
helped  some  by  th'  O-Bar-O.  They  wiped 
th'  town  plumb  off  th'  earth,  an'  now  I'm 
going  to  do  some  wipin'  of  my  own  account. 
I'll  prune  that  gang  of  some  of  its  blossoms 
afore  long.  It's  cost  me  seventeen  friends 
so  far,  an'  I'm  going  to  stop  th'  leak,  or  make 
another." 

362 


MR.    EWALT   DRAWS    CARDS 

They  entered  Muddy  Wells  at  sunrise  on 
the  day  of  the  carnival  and,  eating  a  hearty 
breakfast,  sallied  forth  to  do  their  share  to- 
ward making  the  festivities  a  success. 

The  first  step  considered  necessary  for  the 
acquirement  of  ease  and  polish  was  begun 
at  the  nearest  bar,  and  Tex,  being  the  host, 
was  so  liberal  that  his  friends  had  reached  a 
most  auspicious  state  when  they  followed  him 
to  Tom  Lee's. 

Tex  was  too  wise  to  lose  his  head  through 
drink  and  had  taken  only  enough  to  make  him 
careless  of  consequences.  Porous  was  deter- 
mined to  sing  "  Annie  Laurie,"  although  he 
hung  on  the  last  word  of  the  first  line  until 
out  of  breath  and  then  began  anew.  Silent, 
not  wishing  to  be  outdone,  bawled  at  the  top 
of  his  lungs  a  medley  of  music-hall  words  to 
the  air  of  a  hymn. 

Tex,  walking  as  awkwardly  as  any  cow- 
puncher,  approached  Tom  Lee's,  his  two 
friends  trailing  erratically,  arm  in  arm,  in 
his  rear.  Swinging  his  arm  he  struck  the  door 
a  resounding  blow  and  entered,  hand  on  gun, 
as  it  crashed  back.  Porous  and  silent  stood 

363 


BAR— 1 20 


in  the  doorway  and  quarreled  as  to  what  each 
should  drink  and,  compromising,  lurched  in 
and  seated  themselves  on  a  table  and  resumed 
their  vocal  perpetrations. 

Tex  swaggered  over  to  the  bar  and  tossed 
a  quarter  upon  it:  "  Corn  juice/'  he  laconic- 
ally exclaimed.  Tossing  off  the  liquor  and 
glancing  at  his  howling  friends,  he  shrugged 
his  shoulders  and  strode  out  by  the  rear  door, 
slamming  it  after  him.  Porous  and  Silent, 
recounting  friends  who  had  "  cashed  in  "  fell 
to  weeping  and  they  were  thus  occupied  when 
Hopalong  and  Buck  entered,  closely  followed 
by  the  rest  of  the  outfit. 

Buck  walked  to  the  bar  and  was  followed 
by  Hopalong,  who  declined  his  foreman's 
offer  to  treat.  Tom  Lee  set  a  bottle  at  Buck's 
elbow  and  placed  his  hands  against  the  bar. 

"  Friend  of  yourn  just  hit  th'  back  trail," 
he  remarked  to  Hopalong.  "  He  was  primed 
some  for  trouble,  too,"  he  added. 

"  Yaas?  "  drawled  Hopalong  with  little  in- 
terest. 

The  proprietor  restacked  the  few  glasses 
and  wiped  off  the  bar. 

364 


MR.   EWALT   DRAWS   CARDS 

"  Them's  his  pardners,"  he  said,  indicating 
the  pair  on  the  table. 

Hopalong  turned  his  head  and  gravely 
scrutinized  them.  Porous  was  bemoaning  the 
death  of  Slim  Travennes  and  Hopalong 
frowned. 

"  Don't  reckon  he's  no  relation  of  mine," 
he  grunted. 

"  Well,  he  ain't  yore  sister,"  replied  Tom 
Lee,  grinning. 

"  What's  his  brand?  "  asked  the  puncher. 

"  I  reckon  he's  a  maverick,  'though  yu  put 
yore  brand  on  him  up  to  Santa  Fe  a  couple 
of  years  back.  Since  he's  throwed  back  on 
yore  range  I  reckon  he's  yourn  if  yu  wants 
him." 

"  I  reckon  Tex  is  some  sore,"  remarked 
Hopalong,  rolling  a  cigarette. 

"  I  reckon  he  is,"  replied  the  proprietor, 
tossing  Buck's  quarter  in  the  cash  box.  "  But, 
say,  you  should  oughter  see  his  rig." 

"Yaas?" 

"  He's  shore  a  cow-punch  dude — my,  but 
he's  some  sumptious  an'  highfalutin'.  An* 
bad?  Why,  he  reckons  th'  Lord  never  brewed 


BAR  —  20 


a  more  high-toned  brand  of  cussedness  than 
his'n.  He  shore  reckons  he's  th'  baddest  man 
that  ever  simmered." 

"  How'd  he  look  as  th'  leadin'  man  in  a 
necktie  festival?  "  blazed  Johnny  from  across 
the  room,  feeling  called  upon  to  help  with 
the  conversation. 

"  He'd  be  a  howlin'  success,  son,"  replied 
Skinny  Thompson,  "  judgin'  by  his  friends 
what  we  elevated  over  in  th'  Panhandle." 

Lanky  Smith  leaned  forward  with  his  elbow 
on  the  table,  resting  his  chin  in  the  palm  of 
his  hand:  "  Is  Ewalt  still  a-layin'  for  yu, 
Hopalong?"  he  asked. 

Hopalong  turned  wearily  and  tossed  his 
half-consumed  cigarette  into  the  box  of  sand 
which  did  duty  as  a  cuspidore:  "  I  reckon  so; 
an'  he  shore  can  hatch  whenever  he  gets  good 
an'  ready,  too." 

"  He's  probably  a-broodin'  over  past  griev- 
ances," offered  Johnny,  as  he  suddenly  pushed 
Lanky's  elbow  from  the  table,  nearly  causing 
a  catastrophe. 

"  Yu'll  be  broodin'  over  present  grievances 
if  yu  don't  look  out,  yu  everlastin'  nuisance 
366 


MR.    EWALT   DRAWS   CARDS 

yu,"  growled  Lanky,  planting  his  elbow  in 
its  former  position  with  an  emphasis  which 
conveyed  a  warning. 

"  These  bantams  ruffle  my  feathers,"  re- 
marked Red.  "  They  go  around  braggin' 
about  th'  egg  they're  goin'  to  lay  an'  do 
enough  cacklin'  to  furnish  music  for  a  dozen. 
Then  when  th'  affair  comes  off  yu'll  generally 
find  they's  been  settin'  on  a  door-knob." 

"  Did  yu  ever  see  a  hen  leave  th'  walks  of 
peace  an'  bugs  an'  rustle  hell-bent  across  th' 
trail  plumb  in  front  of  a  cayuse?  "  asked 
Buck.  "  They'll  leave  off  rustlin'  grub  an' 
become  candidates  for  th'  graveyard  just  for 
cussedness.  Well,  a  whole  lot  of  men  are  th' 
same  way.  How  many  times  have  I  seen  them 
swagger  into  a  gin  shop  an'  try  to  run  things 
sudden  an'  hard,  an'  that  with  half  a  dozen 
better  men  in  th'  same  room  ?  There's  shore 
a-plenty  of  trouble  a-comin'  to  every  man 
without  rustlin'  around  for  more." 

"  'Member  that  time  yu  an'  Frenchy  tried 
to  run  th'  little  town  of  Frozen  Nose,  up  in 
Montana?"  asked  Johnny,  winking  at  the 
rest. 

36? 


BAR  —  20 


"  An'  we  did  run  it,  for  a  while,"  responded 
Buck.  "  But  that  only  goes  to  show  that 
most  young  men  are  chumps — we  were  just 
about  yore  age  then." 

Red  laughed  at  the  youngster's  discom- 
fiture :  "  That  little  squib  of  yourn  shore 
touched  her  off — I  reckon  we  irrigates  on  yu 
this  time,  don't  we?  " 

"  Th'  more  th'  Kid  talks,  th'  more  money 
he  needs,"  remarked  Lanky,  placing  his  glass 
on  the  bar.  "  He  had  to  blow  me  an'  Skinny 
twice  last  night." 

"  I  got  two  more  after  yu  left,"  added 
Skinny.  "  He  shore  oughter  practice  keeping 
still." 

At  one  o'clock  sharp  Hopalong  walked  up 
to  the  clerk  of  the  hotel  and  grinned.  The 
clerk  looked  up : 

"  Hullo,  Cassidy?  "  he  exclaimed,  genially. 
"  What  was  all  that  fuss  about  this  mornin' 
when  I  was  away?  I  haven't  seen  you  for  a 
long  time,  have  I?  How  are  you?  " 

"  That  fuss  was  a  fool  joke  of  Buck's,  an' 
I  wish  they  had  been  throwed  out,"  Hopa- 
long replied.  "  What  I  want  to  know  is  if 
368 


MR.    EWALT   DRAWS    CARDS 

Miss  Deane  is  in  her  room.  Yu  see,  I  have 
a  date  with  her." 

The  clerk  grinned: 

"  So  she's  roped  you,  too,  has  she?  " 

"  What  do  yu  mean?  '  asked  Hopalong  in 
surprise. 

"  Well,  well,"  laughed  the  clerk.  "  You 
punchers  are  easy.  Any  third-rate  actress 
that  looks  good  to  eat  can  rope  you  fellows, 
all  right.  Now  look  here,  Laura,  you  keep 
shy  of  her  corral,  or  you'll  be  broke  so  quick 
you  won't  believe  you  ever  had  a  cent :  that's 
straight.  This  is  the  third  year  that  she's 
been  here  and  I  know  what  I'm  talking  about. 
How  did  you  come  to  meet  her?  " 

Hopalong  explained  the  meeting  and  his 
friend  laughed  again : 

;<  Why,  she  knows  this  country  like  a  book. 
She  can't  get  lost  anywhere  around  here.  But 
she's  d — d  clever  at  catching  punchers." 

"  Well,  I  reckon  I'd  better  take  her,  go 
broke  or  not,"  replied  Hopalong.  "  Is  she 
in  her  room?  " 

"  She  is,  but  she  is  not  alone,"  responded 
the  clerk.  *  There  is  a  dude  puncher  up  there 
369 


BAR  —  20 


with  her  and  she  left  word  here  that  she  was 
indisposed,  which  means  that  you  are  out- 
lawed." 

"Who  is  he?"  asked  Hopalong,  having 
his  suspicions. 

"  That  friend  of  yours :  Ewalt.  He  sported 
a  wad  this  morning  when  she  passed  him,  and 
she  let  him  make  her  acquaintance.  He's 
another  easy  mark.  He'll  be  busted  wide 
open  to-night." 

"  I  reckon  I'll  see  Tex,"  suggested  Hopa- 
long, starting  for  the  stairs. 

"  Come  back,  you  chump !  "  cried  the  clerk. 
"  I  don't  want  any  shooting  here.  What  do 
you  care  about  it?  Let  her  have  him,  for  it's 
an  easy  way  out  of  it  for  you.  Let  him  think 
he's  cut  you  out,  for  he'll  spend  all  the  more 
freely.  Get  your  crowd  and  enlighten  them 
— it'll  be  better  than  a  circus.  This  may 
sound  like  a  steer,  but  it's  straight." 

Hopalong  thought  for  a  minute  and  then 
leaned  on  the  cigar  case: 

"  I  reckon  I'll  take  about  a  dozen  of  yore 
very  best  cigars,  Charley.  Got  any  real  high- 
toned  brands? " 


MR.    EWALT   DRAWS   CARDS 

"  Cortez  panatella — two  for  a  simoleon," 
Charley  replied.  "  But,  seein'  that  it's  you, 
I'll  throw  off  a  dollar  on  a  dozen.  They're 
a  fool  notion  of  the  old  man,  for  we  can't 
sell  one  in  a  month." 

Hopalong  dug  up  a  handful  and  threw  one 
on  the  counter,  lighting  another:  "  Yu  light 
a  Cortez  panatella  with  me,"  he  said,  pocket- 
ing the  remainder.  "  That's  five  simoleons 
she  didn't  get.  So  long." 

He  journeyed  to  Tom  Lee's  and  found  his 
outfit  making  merry.  Passing  around  his 
cigars  he  leaned  against  the  bar  and  delighted 
in  the  first  really  good  smoke  he  had  since  he 
came  home  from  Kansas  City. 

Johnny  Nelson  blew  a  cloud  of  smoke  at 
the  ceiling  and  paused  with  a  pleased  expres- 
sion on  his  face: 

"  This  is  a  lalapoloosa  of  a  cigar,"  he  cried. 
"  Where'd  yu  get  it,  an'  how  many's  left?  " 

"  I  got  it  from  Charley,  an'  there's  more 
than  yu  can  buy  at  fifty  a  shot." 

"Well,  I'll  just  take  a  few  for  luck," 
Johnny  responded,  running  out  into  the  street. 
Returning  in  five  minutes  with  both  hands 
371 


BAR  —  20 


full  of  cigars  he  passed  them  around  and 
grinned:  "  They're  birds,  all  right!  " 

Hopalong  smiled,  turned  to  Buck  and  re- 
lated his  conversation  with  Charley.  "  What 
do  yu  think  of  that?  "  he  asked  as  he  finished. 

"  I  think  Charley  oughter  be  yore  guar- 
dian," replied  the  foreman. 

"  He  was,"  replied  Hopalong. 

"  If  we  sees  Tex  we'll  all  grin  hard," 
laughed  Red,  making  for  the  door.  "  Come 
on  to  th'  contests — Lanky's  gone  already." 

Muddy  Wells  streamed  to  the  carnival 
grounds  and  relieved  itself  of  its  enthusiasm 
and  money  at  the  booths  on  the  way.  Cow- 
punchers  rubbed  elbows  with  Indians  and 
Mexicans,  and  the  few  tourists  that  were 
present  were  delighted  with  the  picturesque 
scene.  The  town  was  full  of  fakirs  and  be- 
fore one  of  them  stood  a  group  of  cow- 
punchers,  apparently  drinking  in  the  words 
of  a  barker. 

"  Right  this  way,  gents,  and  see  the  woman 
who  don't  eat.  Lived  for  two  years  without 
food,  gents.  Right  this  way,  gents.  Only 
372 


MR.    EWALT   DRAWS    CARDS 

a  quarter  of  a  dollar.  Get  your  tickets,  gents, 
and  see " 

Red  pushed  forward: 

"What  did  yu  say,  Pard? "  he  asked. 
"  I'm  a  little  off  in  my  near  ear.  What's 
that  about  eatin'  a  woman  for  two  years  ?  " 

"  The  greatest  wonder  of  the  age,  gents. 
The  worn " 

"  Any  discount  for  th'  gang?  "  asked  Buck, 
gawking. 

"  Why  don't  yu  quit  smokin'  an'  buy  th' 
lady  a  meal?  "  asked  Johnny  from  the  center 
of  the  group. 

*  Th'  cane  yu  ring  th'  cane  yu  get!  "  came 
from  the  other  side  of  the  street  and  Hopa- 
long  purchased  rings  for  the  outfit.  Twenty- 
four  rings  got  one  cane,  and  it  was  divided 
between  them  as  they  wended  their  way  to- 
ward the  grounds. 

"  That  makes  six  wheels  she  didn't  get," 
murmured  Hopalong. 

As  they  passed  the  snake  charmer's  booth 
they  saw  Tex  and  his  companion  ahead  of 
them  in  the  crowd,  and  they  grinned  broadly. 
373 


BAR  —  20 


"  I  like  th'  front  row  in  th'  balcony,"  re- 
marked Johnny,  who  had  been  to  Kansas 
City.  "  Don't  cry  in  th'  second  act — it  ain't 
real,"  laughed  Red.  "We'll  hang  John 
Brown  on  a  sour  apple-tree — in  th'  Pan- 
handle," sang  Skinny  as  they  passed  them. 

Arriving  at  the  grounds  they  hunted  up  the 
registration  committee  and  entered  in  the  con- 
tests. As  Hopalong  signed  for  the  revolver 
competition  he  was  rudely  pushed  aside  and 
Tex  wrote  his  name  under  that  of  his  enemy. 
Hopalong  was  about  to  show  quick  resent- 
ment for  the  insult,  but  thought  of  what  Char- 
ley had  said,  and  he  grinned  sympathetically. 
The  seats  were  filling  rapidly,  and  the  outfit 
went  along  the  ground  looking  for  friends. 
A  bugle  sounded  and  a  hush  swept  over  the 
crowd  as  the  announcement  was  made  for  the 
first  event. 

"  Broncho-busting. — Red  Devil,  never  rid- 
den: Frenchy  McAllister,  Tin-Cup,  Mon- 
tana ;  Meteor,  killed  his  man :  Skinny  Thomp- 
son, Bar— 20,  Texas;  Vixen,  never  ridden: 
Lefty  Allen,  O-Bar-O,  Texas." 

All  eyes  were  focused  on  the  plain  where 
374 


MR.    EWALT   DRAWS    CARDS 

the  horse  was  being  led  out  for  the  first  trial. 
After  the  usual  preliminaries  had  been  gone 
through  Frenchy  walked  over  to  it,  vaulted 
in  the  saddle  and  the  bandage  was  torn  from 
the  animal's  eyes.  For  ten  minutes  the  on- 
lookers were  held  spellbound  by  the  fight 
before  them,  and  then  the  horse  kicked  and 
galloped  away  and  Frenchy  was  picked  up 
and  carried  from  the  field. 

"  Too  bad !  "  cried  Buck,  running  from  the 
outfit. 

"  Did  yu  see  it?  "  asked  Johnny  excitedly. 
"  Th'  cinch  busted." 

Another  horse  was  led  out  and  Skinny 
Thompson  vaulted  to  the  saddle,  and  after  a 
fight  of  half  an  hour  rode  the  animal  from 
the  enclosure  to  the  clamorous  shouts  of  his 
friends.  Lefty  Allen  also  rode  his  mount 
from  the  same  gate,  but  took  ten  minutes  more 
in  which  to  do  it. 

The  announcer  conferred  with  the  time- 
keepers and  then  stepped  forward:  "  First, 
Skinny  Thompson,  Bar— 20,  thirty  minutes 
and  ten  seconds;  second,  Lefty  Allen, 
O-Bar-O,  forty  minutes  and  seven  seconds." 
375 


BAR  -•  20 


Skinny  returned  to  his  friends  shame- 
facedly and  did  not  look  as  if  he  had  just  won 
a  championship.  They  made  way  for  him, 
and  Johnny,  who  could  not  restrain  his  enthu- 
siasm, clapped  him  on  the  back  and  cried: 
"  Yu  old  son-of-a-gun !  " 

The  announcer  again  came  forward  and 
gave  out  the  competitors  for  the  next  contest, 
steer-roping  and  tying.  Lanky  Smith  arose 
and,  coiling  his  rope  carefully,  disappeared 
into  the  crowd.  The  fun  was  not  so  great  in 
this,  but  when  he  returned  to  his  outfit  with 
the  phenomenal  time  of  six  minutes  and  eight 
seconds  for  his  string  of  ten  steers,  with 
twenty-two  seconds  for  one  of  them,  they 
gave  him  vociferous  greeting.  Three  of  his 
steers  had  gotten  up  after  he  had  leaped  from 
his  saddle  to  tie  them,  but  his  horse  had  taken 
care  of  that.  His  nearest  rival  was  one  min- 
ute over  him  and  Lanky  retained  the  cham- 
pionship. 

Red  Connors  shot  with  such  accuracy  in 
the  rifle  contest  as  to  run  his  points  twenty 
per  cent  higher  than  Waffles,  of  the  O-Bar-O, 
and  won  the  new  rifle. 

376 


MR.   EWALT   DRAWS   CARDS 

The  main  interest  centered  in  the  revolver 
contest,  for  it  was  known  that  the  present 
champion  was  to  defend  his  title  against  an 
enemy  and  fears  were  expressed  in  the  crowd 
that  there  would  be  an  "  accident."  Buck 
Peters  and  Red  stood  just  behind  the  firing 
line  with  their  hands  on  hips,  and  Tex,  seeing 
the  precautions,  smiled  grimly  as  he  advanced 
to  the  line. 

Six  bottles,  with  their  necks  an  inch  above 
a  board,  stood  twenty  paces  from  him,  and  he 
broke  them  all  in  as  many  shots,  taking  six 
seconds  in  which  to  do  it.  Hopalong  fol- 
lowed him  and  tied  the  score.  Three  tin  balls 
rolling  erratically  in  a  blanket  supported  by 
two  men  were  sent  flying  into  the  air  in  four 
shots,  Tex  taking  three  seconds.  His  com- 
petitor sent  them  from  the  blanket  in  three 
shots  and  in  the  same  time.  In  slow  shooting 
from  sights  Tex  passed  his  rival  in  points  and 
stood  to  win.  There  was  but  one  more  event 
to  be  contested  and  in  it  Hopalong  found  his 
joy.  Shooting  from  the  hip  when  the  draw 
is  timed  is  not  the  sport  of  even  good  shots, 
and  when  Tex  made  sixty  points  out  of  a  pos- 
377 


BAR  —  20 


sible  hundred,  he  felt  that  he  had  shot  well. 
When  Hopalong  went  to  the  line  his  friends 
knew  that  they  would  now  see  shooting  such 
as  would  be  almost  unbelievable,  that  the  best 
draw-and-shoot  marksman  in  their  State  was 
the  man  who  limped  slightly  as  he  advanced 
and  who  chewed  reflectively  on  his  fifty-cent 
cigar.  He  wore  two  guns  and  he  stepped 
with  confidence  before  the  marshal  of  the 
town,  who  was  also  judge  of  the  contest. 

The  tiny  spherical  bell  which  lay  on  the 
ground  was  small  enough  for  the  use  of  a 
rifle  and  could  hardly  be  seen  from  the  rear 
seats  of  the  amphitheater.  There  was  a  word 
spoken  by  the  timekeeper,  and  a  gloved  hand 
flashed  down  and  up,  and  the  bell  danced  and 
spun  and  leaped  and  rolled  as  shot  after  shot 
followed  it  with  a  precision  and  speed  which 
brought  the  audience  to  a  heavy  silence.  Tak- 
ing the  gun  which  Buck  tossed  to  him  and 
throwing  it  into  the  empty  holster,  he  awaited 
the  signal,  and  then  smoke  poured  from  his 
hips  and  the  bell  clanged  continuously,  once 
while  it  was  in  the  air.  Both  guns  emptied 

378 


MR.    EWALT   DRAWS    CARDS 

in  the  two-hand  shooting,  he  wheeled  and 
jerked  loose  the  guns  which  the  marshal  wore, 
spinning  around  without  a  pause,  the  target 
hardly  ceasing  in  its  ringing.  Under  his  arms 
he  shot,  backward  and  between  his  legs;  leap- 
ing from  side  to  side,  ducking  and  dodging, 
following  the  bell  wherever  it  went.  Reload- 
ing his  weapons  quickly  he  twirled  them  on 
his  fingers  and  enveloped  himself  in  smoke 
out  of  which  came  vivid  flashes  as  the  bell 
gave  notice  that  he  shot  well.  His  friends, 
and  there  were  many  in  the  crowd,  torn  from 
their  affected  nonchalance  by  shooting  the 
like  of  which  they  had  not  attributed  even  to 
him,  roared  and  shouted  and  danced  in  a 
frenzy  of  delight.  Red  also  threw  his  guns 
to  Hopalong,  who  caught  them  in  the  air  and 
turning,  faced  Tex,  who  stood  white  of  face 
and  completely  lost  in  the  forgetfulness  of 
admiration  and  amazement.  The  guns  spun 
again  on  his  fingers  and  a  button  flew  from 
the  buckskin  shirt  of  his  enemy;  another  tore 
a  flower  from  his  breast  and  another  drove  it 
into  the  ground  at  his  feet  as  others  stirred 
379 


BAR  —  20 


his  hair  and  cut  the  buckle  off  his  pretty  som- 
brero. Tex,  dazed,  but  wise  enough  to  stand 
quiet,  felt  his  belt  tear  loose  and  drop  to 
his  feet,  felt  a  spur  rip  from  its  strap  and 
saw  his  cigarette  leap  from  his  lips.  Throw- 
ing the  guns  to  Red,  Hopalong  laughed  and 
abruptly  turned  and  was  lost  in  the  crowd. 

For  several  seconds  there  was  silence,  but 
when  the  dazed  minds  realized  what  their 
eyes  had  seen,  there  arose  a  roar  which  shook 
the  house*  in  the  town.  Roar  after  roar 
thundered  forth  and  was  sent  crashing  back 
again  by  the  distant  walls,  sweeping  down 
on  the  discomfited  dude  and  causing  him  to 
slink  into  the  crowd  to  find  a  place  less  con- 
spicuous. He  was  white  yet  and  keen  fear 
gripped  his  heart  as  he  realized  that  he  had 
come  to  the  carnival  with  the  expressed  pur- 
pose of  killing  his  enemy  in  fair  combat.  The 
whole  town  knew  it,  for  he  had  taken  pains 
to  spread  the  news.  The  woman  he  had  been 
with  knew  it  from  words  which  she  had  over- 
heard while  on  her  way  to  the  grounds  with 
him.  His  friends  knew  it  and  would  laugh 
him  into  forgetfulness  as  the  fool  who 
380 


MR.    EWALT   DRAWS   CARDS 

boasted.  Now  he  understood  why  he  had  lost 
so  many  friends:  they  had  attempted  what 
he  had  sworn  to  attempt.  Look  where  he 
would  he  could  see  only  a  smoke-wrapped 
demon  who  moved  and  shot  with  a  speed  in- 
credible. There  was  reason  why  Slim  had 
died.  There  was  reason  why  Porous  and 
Silent  had  paled  when  they  learned  of  their 
mission.  He  hated  his  conspicuous  clothes 
and  his  pretty  broncho,  and  the  woman  who 
had  gotten  him  to  squander  his  money,  and 
who  was  doubtless  convulsed  with  laughter 
at  his  expense.  He  worked  himself  into  a 
passion  which  knew  no  fear  and  he  ran  for  the 
streets  of  the  town,  there  to  make  good  his 
boast  or  to  die.  When  he  found  his  enemy 
he  felt  himself  grasped  with  a  grip  of  steel 
and  Buck  Peters  swung  him  around  and 
grinned  maliciously  in  his  face : 

"  Yu  plaything!"  hoarsely  whispered  the 
foreman.  "  Why  don't  yu  get  away  while 
yu  can?  Why  do  yu  want  to  throw  yoreself 
against  certain  death  ?  I  don't  want  my  pleas- 
ure marred  by  a  murder,  an'  that  is  what  it 
will  be  if  yu  makes  a  gun-play  at  Hopalong. 

381 


BAR  —  20 


He'll  shoot  yu  as  he  did  yore  buttons.  Take 
yore  pretty  clothes  an'  yore  pretty  cayuse  an' 
go  where  this  is  not  known,  an'  if  ever  again 
yu  feels  like  killing  Hopalong,  get  drunk  an' 
forget  it." 


THE  END 


382 


Set  up,  Electrotype^  and  Printed  at 

THE    OUTING    PRESS 

DEPOSIT,   NEW  YORK 


